Goodbye Harry Potter 2
by Speak Out
Summary: ::ON HIATUS: Harry learns who his real father is and must decide between finally having a family and the expectations of everyone else. Will he turn from the light and fight at his father's side? Of course! AU Dark!Evil!Harry Prequal to GHP. ::ON HIATUS::
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I earn no money by writing this. All characters and suchlike are owned by whoever owns them, and that person is not me.

A/N: First chapter, re-written. Alright I admit it, I'm obsessing. Since writing chapter 20, I went back and I'm pretty appalled by the original story. So in an attempt to be less embarrassed by my lack of writing ability, here's the improved version.

As the Hogwarts Express pulled in the station, Harry Potter laughed. Ron already had his face pressed against the window scanning the crowd for his family. The flock of red-heads wasn't easy to miss. Hermione smiled amusedly and gathered the cards they'd been playing with. She had introduced her friends to Muggle card games over the school year, and while Ron still couldn't understand why they didn't "do anything interesting," it'd become a popular distraction for the teens.

Harry let out a quiet sigh as he gathered his things. The end of the perfect year had come. This year really had been the perfect year, he reflected as he slid the compartment door shut. No attacks, no death threats. Voldemort had been remarkably quiet. He knew he should be on his guard, but everything was so quiet. Hopefully the Dark side would keep calm a little longer.

On the platform, He was engulfed in a hug by Mrs. Weasley, who quickly insisted he come over to visit this summer. Through the happiness and chatter, he had no was of predicting what was to come.

The Weasley's went on their way, but not after insisting they bring Harry home first.

"Really, Mrs. Weasley, thank you. But I'll be fine. Uncle Vernon will be here soon to pick me up. He doesn't much like having to see "our type" anyway. I'll be fine on my own."

"Well, dear, if you're sure..."

Alone now, Harry began to feel the cold set in. It came every year when he realized that it was summer time. As the smuggle children cheered happily, enjoying their break, Harry would have preferred to remain in school. Now he had to go find Vernon before he left and face three months of isolation.

He wandered the platform but there was sign of his relatives. He took a breath. It wasn't so bad. If he needed to, he could take the Knight Bus home. He'd just have it drop him off a block or two away and he'd be home in no time. Alright, he thought, I have a plan. Good.

Harry dragged his trunk outside and lifted his wand. The Knight Bus appeared in less than a second, accepting his fare and going on it's way. He chatted with Stan about the latest news and gossip until they arrived at the park near his house.

As he walked in the quiet suburb, he thought about what was waiting for him at home. A silent, tidy house. A bare, tiny bedroom. The occasional beating by Dudley. It wouldn't be so bad. And Madame Pomfrey had taught him some basic healing techniques during the school year and even given him a few potion, so he would be alright.

Harry arrived at his house just as the glow of a new sun began to peak over the horizon. But the house wasn't completely dark, as it should have been. A single light glowed from the front room. He'd seen this before, it meant that Vernon had been drinking. Harry sighed. He'd have to be especially careful getting inside. He dragged his trunk into the side yard, carefully sliding it behind a few bushes. He pulled out a few important things first, like his wand and a few unbreakable vials of potions.

He brushed the dirt from his hands and knees and went around to the back door, taking the key from under the mat and quietly unlocking the door. The light from the front room spilled out onto the carpet and the air smelled strongly of spilled beer.

He slipped off his shoes and padded to the door frame. He listened carefully, but couldn't hear any movement. He peered in and saw Vernon facing the other way. He took one step, then another, a third. Up a few stairs and...

"BOY!"

He started running up the stairs instead. He reached the top, but suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. The next thing he knew, he was falling.


	2. Of beatings and letters

Major Changes: Removed Harry's cheesy ability to check his injuries magically. It was just stupid. Added more correspondence between Voldemort and Harry. Harry's beaten were made less brutal as well. Dumbledore has a more direct hand in the changing in Harry's outlook on Dark versus Light. It's no longer the end of June, less time has passed.

Chapter 2

Harry suppressed a groan as he woke. Without opening his eyes, he slowly tested all of his limbs. He curled his toes, flexed his feet, bent his knees, wiggled his hips. He took a deep breath, sucked in his stomach, shrugged his shoulders. He continued in this manner for some time until he knew that he wasn't very hurt. A little achy maybe, but nothing pressing. He opened his eyes.

It was dark, wherever he was. Cramped, too. He fit alright though; he was rather small after all. As he waited for his eyes to adjust, he felt a spider skitter over his hand. Ah, Harry thought. I'm in my cupboard.

He tested the door and found that he hadn't been locked in. Listening, he could hear no movement, nor could he see any light through the vent in the door. He decided to venture out. It was as he suspected, he'd been out most of the day and night had fallen. He climbed the stairs and found that his room was just as he'd left it, if a little dustier. He spent the night cleaning it up.

Come morning, Harry emerged from his room. No one would be awake this early on Saturday in the middle of summer. Not the Dursleys, or any of the neighbors. He decided to get his trunk before anyone saw it.

Harry left his room and descended the steps, careful to avoid the squeaky step, and out the back door. Outside he found the makings of a beautiful day. He took a moment to enjoy the serenity, likely the only peace he'd have for a while. He sat on the back stoop and listened to the birds sing, felt the warmth of the new day's sun, enjoyed the smell of freshly cut grass.

He was shaken from his reverie by the slam of a car doom. That meant that people were leaving for work, and he'd have work more quickly. He grabbed his trunk and carefully pulled it into the house. He dragged it up the stairs slowly, being careful to leave no mark. It was times like these that he missed magic.

Soon he was back in his room, safe and sound. He dozed off after sliding his trunk under that bed.

An hour later, Harry was woken from a mild doze by his Aunt's shriek.

"Get up, you lazy boy!"

Harry sighed. He'd have to get used to not hearing his name for the next few months.

He left his room and trudged down stairs, meeting his "family" in the kitchen. Dudley poked angrily at his grapefruit and Vernon read the paper and sipped his coffee. Aunt Petunia was once again peeking at the neighbors through the drapery.

Harry took his seat and took a single piece of toast. He was never hungry during his first few days back. When he had finished, his aunt handed him a list. His chores for the week. Which really meant his chores for the day. Vernon would be angry if he took too long to finish them. There was plenty to clean and fix this week. Summer had barely begun and already there was plenty of work. He suspected that they broke things just to give him more work.

By the time noon rolled around, he had several of the chores finished. He'd learned long ago that if he finished enough of the chores early in the day, the Dursleys would leave him the rest of the day to himself.

As he dragged his feet into the kitchen, he reviewed what he'd done that morning. He repaired a broken ceramic pot. Twice. Dudley broke it again soon after the first time. He'd dusted, swept, and mopped. He also fixed the broken wheel on Dudley's bike (though if the fat lug ever rode the thing was beyond him.)

He figured that was enough to satisfy his relatives and dropped the list into a little basket for his Aunt to review. She liked to keep check on what he'd done that day.

Life continued in this manner for a while. Every few days Petunia would give a new list, which he would work on, then Harry would wander to the park or lock himself up in his room. One day, however, things began to change.

It was late morning. Petunia had gone off shopping, so she wasn't around. Dudley was again poking at his assorted healthy snacks and Vernon was reading the paper and drinking. However, that wasn't a bottle of coffee in his hand.

"Boy! Get th' mail!"

Harry was quick to retrieve it. He knew better than disobey Vernon when the man had been drinking. Especially so early in the day. He'd be angry or drunk until nightfall at this rate. He didn't look like he'd drank too much yet. Dudley wouldn't be around if he had. Dudley may be a horrible person, but he didn't like how his dad smelled when he was drunk.

In the front hall, Harry scooped up the pile of letters like he always did. This time, however, one caught his eye. It was written on parchment. He slipped it up his sleeve and continued into the kitchen.

Dudley stuck his foot out as Harry walked by and tripped him. Harry landed on his hands and knees and the letters went flying. Dudley saw Harry's name on one of them

"Dad, dad! Harry's got a letter!" Dudley wobbled over to it and snatched it out of Harry's grasp. He handed it to Vernon, throwing a smug look in Harry's direction. Vernon recognized it as a wizard's letter. His face turned an interesting shade of purple.

Harry shrunk back into the hall. He knew it'd be useless to try and make it to his room. He braced himself.

"Let's find out whose writing to our resident freak, shall we?" Vernon snarled, took a knife from the table and tried to slice open the envelope, only to find out that he couldn't. The knife would not go through the paper. He soon realized the reason: magic. This only angered him more. He stood quickly and knocked over his chair. He grabbed Harry roughly by the collar, telling Dudley that it was time for a proper son of his to learn how to properly beat a freak.

Harry woke some time later, sprawled across his bed. He couldn't remember how he got there, but imagined he must have stumbled in after Vernon's rage subsided.

He checked himself again for injuries. He feared a break in his left arm, plus a strong pain in his rib. At least his arm wasn't obviously broken, so he hoped he was just overestimating the damage. But as for his ribs, he'd never broken one of those before so he couldn't tell if it were broken or just badly bruised. He carefully reached into his hiding place under the floorboards under his bed and took out a vial of pain relieving potion, sipping it carefully. He couldn't use too much; it had to last the summer.

He got up and went to look in his small mirror, cradling his hurt arm. He wasn't shocked to see his reflection covered in bruises.

"Come on, Potter, look carefully. It isn't that bad. The worst is your arm, and that might not be so bad anyway. Vernon's never gone so far as to break bones before. It's probably just a bad bruise." Just in case, he made himself a sling out of an old shirt.

He tested his door, surprised to find it unlocked. He carefully checked the house and was glad to see that he had it too himself. He wasn't sure what day it was anymore, but it must be a weekday. A Tuesday, Thursday or Friday if Petunia was out too. Harry wandered back upstairs and drew himself a bath, something he could only do when everyone was out of the house. The warmth soothed his aching body.

A short time later, he remembered why Vernon had been so angry to begin with. The Letter.

He ran down stairs and searched the kitchen. He found it crumpled in the waist basket, overjoyed the Vernon hadn't destroyed it. However, closer inspection revealed that the letter had taken it's share of blows as well, showing signs of being burned, torn, and similarly abused. Harry was never more thankful for protection charms.

Back in his room, he laid the letter on his bed. Who would have written him? He told his friends not to write except in an emergency, to avoid his uncle's wrath.

"Just open the letter, Potter!" He chided himself. With his working hand he opened broke the seal.

_Harry Potter, _

_I would like to extend an invitation to you. Not so long ago, I began to hear a few rumors about your current living conditions. Obviously, they are not as comfortable as one would hope. I have a safe place prepared for you, free of all harm. You family will not be able to hurt you here. You will receive only the finest education and will not even have to journey into the public eye, should you so desire. Take a moment and consider. If Dumbledore will not protect you, perhaps it is time you find a different person to look to in times of need. _

_Consider my proposal. _

_I await your response,  
Lord Voldemort_

Harry wasn't sure what to make of this. Did Lord Voldemort really send him this letter? Did he really expect to trick Harry with something so simple?

But he made a good point. What was Dumbledore thinking? Leaving a defenseless boy in the hands of these horrible people? Why wasn't the old man helping him? All Harry needed was a ration of food, really, and he could live out the summer in his room. His anger grew.

"Potter!" Harry chided himself. "Yes, the man is persuasive, but he's Voldemort. He's just trying get in your head. Probably bewitched the letter too." He sighed. Voldemort was getting too good at messing him.

Then again...his scar wasn't even twinging. He couldn't feel Voldemort planning anything particularly diabolical. He couldn't detect any malice, any evil plots. Maybe Voldemort really was being sincere...

He hit himself in the head. The beating must have scrambled his brains a little.

Harry began receiving letters every few days from Voldemort, each more persuasive than the last. Harry began to trust Dumbledore less and less. Especially after what happened in the beginning in the beginning of July.

As Harry became more desperate for escape from his abusive family, who had begun locking him in his room and denying him meals, he went so far as to give Mrs. Figg a note for Dumbledore, who promptly responded that things weren't so bad as they seemed, and Harry must stay with his relatives for the protective magic to work. Mrs. Figg was then called away on "Order Business" and Harry was left alone.

A little while earlier Hedwig had found her way to Harry, despite being left at the school. Harry wanted to scold her, she was risking a lot by being there, but instead decided that her timing was well. He couldn't stand this any longer and Dumbledore refused to help him. The man who was supposed to be his guiding light was becoming dimmer in Harry's mind. As Harry's anger grew, all of his bottled emotions from past year came out. His grief over Sirius's death, his guilt of letting Cedric die. When he realized that all those things were Dumbledore's fault anyway, it was the last straw.

He pulled out some parchment and scribbled a quick note:

_I accept. _


	3. Of traitors and rescues

Major Changes: Fixed up Chapter 4, and combined 3 and 4 together. Removed Death Eaters-being-killed scene, they are all still alive now. Though still traitors. Dumbledore also now knows about the letters.

Chapters 3 and 4: the new version

After the Dark Lord dismissed them, the Death Eaters flooded out of the meeting chamber.

Previously whispered gossip was thrown out into the open to be discussed and pondered as seriously as plans to wage a war. Most prominent were discussions of who was in the Dark Lord's favor and who was over-do for a good Crucio.

Lucius Malfoy leaned against the wall and watched on in disgust. After meetings, his fellow followers acted like such children. In a few minutes, the wild, nervous energy would dissipate, but at the moment they were almost intolerable.

When the gossip had settled, he waded through the group and, like moths to a lamp; a few select members fell into step behind him. They slipped off into the darkness unnoticed…

….By all except the Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort knew who they were and where they were going. They were Malfoy and his followers, off to go plan his "imminent" defeat. They thought he didn't know, but he knew everything that went on in his fortress. There was no hiding from him within his own home.

Lord Voldemort left the gathering room. He walked swiftly to his study, and whispered the password to the snake engraved on the door. The snake hissed softly and slithered out of sight, allowing the door to open.

He crossed the room quickly and sat in an elegant chair behind a dark mahogany desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a sheet of parchment decorated with names. He added another two to the list of Malfoy's followers. He frowned. This list was growing too quickly. He'd have to take care of it in the next meeting.

As he replaced the parchment in its drawer, a sharp tapping at the window caught his attention. He turned and saw a snowy owl. He smiled. Harry Potter's owl. Finally the boy was answering his many letters.

With a wave of his wand, the window flew open and the bird was admitted. She landed gracefully on the desk. When Voldemort reached for the letter, however, she pecked at him. He almost laughed. This bird wasn't intimidated by him. He summoned a house elf that brought some water and food for the bird, who would only then give him the letter, keeping an eye on him all the while.

He opened the letter.

_I accept_

And smiled again. He pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and penned a response.

_Day after tomorrow. Be prepared._

_The "day after tomorrow"…_

Harry Potter could not fall asleep. While he'd had sleeping problems since he first started attending Hogwarts, this was different. This was an interesting mixture of anticipation, nervousness, worry, fear, and annoyance. The first four were to be expected. He would leave today. The last one…well, that was because Dudley was hosting a party. A very loud party.

Harry groaned, rolled over, and pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the sound. Dudley had switched his mom's vitamins with sleeping tablets (how she didn't notice he'd never understand) or else she'd be furious. But not at Dudley, never at Dudley. Probably at him, for some reason.

He looked at his clock, 4:30. Dawn in a few hours. When would Voldemort come for him? How long did Harry have to stay here?

"What if he doesn't come?" Harry thought. "What if he just decides to kill me. I've made these sorts of mistakes before. He could easily have been lying. I should know not to trust my scar so much. What if I've made a mistake?"

He punched his pillow and decided that he'd never get back to sleep at this rate. He winced and bit the inside of cheek as he jarred his injured arm. Once he regained his bearings, he left his bed and opened his door. He could hear the crashes and yelling from downstairs, but did his best to ignore it. He went into the bathroom and turned on the tap.

He splashed icy water on his face with his good hand in an effort to calm down. Harry dried his face and looked into the mirror. Same old green eyes, the same pale skin looked back at him. He tried to calm his hair down, but it just wouldn't work. Taking a step back however, he noticed something was off. Was he getting taller? Maybe he'd lost more weight. His face had thinned out a bit, but that could be because he was maturing or because of his lack of food.

He shrugged. No use worrying now. Maybe Hermione will figure it out when he gets to Hogwarts…

"Hey Potter!"

He froze. The voice sounded like Piers, Dudley's friend.

"Come'n, Potter! I wanna show my mates som'thin'!" Dudley. Harry was getting nervous; Dudley sounded like he'd been in his father's alcohol.

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He saw his cousin bound (a bit wobbly) up the stairs. He saw Dudley grab his shoulder and shove him back down the stairs. He felt a bit dizzy after his head hit the wall.

Once the world stopped spinning he noticed his glasses had dissappeared, but he was able to make out a few blurry shapes approach, several of them staggering. Could none of Dudley's friends hold their liquor?

The first punch knocked him into another wall. The second, and he lost his breath. The third, he saw stars. A kick to the ribs and he felt something break. He raised his arms to protect his face and tried to run for his cupboard but Dudley pulled him back. As more blows landed, Harry began to lose consciousness. The collective pain of his many beatings recently became too much, and soon all was black.

The Dark Lord Voldemort stood outside Number 4 Privet Drive with a few of his Death Eaters, including Snape and Pettigrew. He noticed several drunken teenagers stumbling out of the threshold. This was troubling; it wasn't part of the plan. He would have to work around it.

He watched as they staggered into large Muggle death traps on wheels and sped away. Once they were out of site, he turned to his followers.

"Let us review," He spoke slowly. "Severus, you will enter the home as the wards will not respond to you, being that it is your day for watch the house. Find the boy, bring him out here. Use as little magic as possible. If there is trouble, stun anyone who gets in your way. Everyone else will stand watch here. If for any reason Dumbledore's forces show up, stand your ground but do not enter the house." He handed out a series of rings. "These are portkeys. When the mission is complete, I will send out a signal and you are to put the rings on. They will take you back to headquarters. We begin now." Snape entered the house.

He listened but could hear no movement. He began searching the house. Room after room he checked and found no one. When he checked the living room towards the back of house, he came upon a large lump of a man passed out on the couch and reeking of drink. He left the room quickly.

He entered the kitchen and gasped. There, laying in the middle of the floor in a pool of his own blood was the very boy he was coming to get. He knelt next to the child and pulled out his wand. A quick scanning spell revealed broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, sprained wrist, a few deep gashes…he stopped. The pool of blood had expanded. He needed to get the Potter boy to a mediwizard, now.

He ran to the front door and called out, "Master! You must come see this. It's worse than we thought." Voldemort quickly crossed the threshold, setting off the alarms. He called to his followers to be on their guard. When he was shown to the boy, his heart dropped. He hadn't expected this. He carefully scooped up the child, grabbed hold of Snape, and apparated them all away to headquarters.

After only a few minutes, the area around Number 4 filled with the sounds of Apparation. The Death Eaters took the offensive and began throwing curses.

They didn't last long.

A few remembered the portkeys they had and told the others. All of them put on their rings…and froze. They fell, petrified, to the ground. Pettigrew, however, disappeared.

Albus Dumbledore and Arthur Weasley ran into the house and the others rounded up the fallen Death Eaters. Albus was shocked by the state of the home. The stair railing was crooked and there were blood streaks down the wall. Bloody footprints lead from the kitchen to the front door. He traced them back to the source. The kitchen was a mess. Pots and pans were strewn across the floor. A few bloody knives lay near a large puddle of blood.

"Albus," Arthur gasped, "is this all...Harry's?"

"I'm afraid so, Arthur, I'm afraid so."

Arthur collapsed into the nearest chair a choked sob escaped him. The boy was like his own son. This simply couldn't be. "Albus what do we do now?" The man could barely speak.

"Arthur, go search his room while I talk to the others."

Out in the yard again, Albus told the responding Order members what had happened.

"I am afraid, friends, that Harry is gone. Lord Voldemort has taken him." Albus took off his hat in silent salute and prayer. Minerva came over and took his shaking hand.

"No, Albus, there must be some mistake. Have you checked his bedroom? Maybe he has gone to Mrs. Figg's?"

"Arthur is searching Harry's room as we speak. Ah, there he is. What did you find?"

"All of his things are gone, except these letters." Arthur handed Albus the letters Voldemort had been sending Harry over the last few weeks.

"Oh dear," whispered Albus. "It was Harry's choice to go."


	4. Meetings

4. Meetings

Not yet eleven o'clock in the morning and Lord Voldemort's day was not going well. He paced and pondered, sat and stared, and wrung his hands while he waited. While patience was a virtue Lord Voldemort possessed in excess, he could not calm the butterflies wriggling in his gut. Harry Potter lay unconscious nearby, in a room meticulously prepared for his welcome. The Dark Lord had spent the beginning of summer preparing for his coming: preparing his room, planning their first meeting, rehearsing conversations in his head. He summoned a house elf with a snap of his fingers and told it to check on Mr. Potter and bring him a report. Quickly. The elf was soon bowed before him again. The boy was stirring.

Lord Voldemort silently turned the knob on the thick wooden door separating him from the boy. He chose a a corner off to the side where he could observe the child and not be noticed immediately to wait in while the boy got his bearings. He conjured an armchair and sat quietly.

Harry Potter floated into consciousness with a groan. He took a few shallow breaths and then a deep one, waiting to see if there was any real damage, but only a few twinges registered. In a flash the last night came back to him, forcing itself to the front of his mind and he jerked in bed, gasping. He fell back with a groan, noticing for the first time a throbbing pain in his limbs and the pulling of broken skin on his face. He felt his scar stinging sharply, but tried ignore it. He tested every limb from shoulder to finger, hip to toes, but found it difficult. In another moment, he registered the heavy blankets holding him down. This wasn't his bedroom. These weren't his threadbare, ill-fitting nightclothes. Harry opened his eyes, grabbing for his glasses and pushing them onto to his nose. Around him was an unfamiliar setting, but nothing looked threatening. He saw a set of bookshelves to the left, with a window and seat set into the wall, breaking up the line of shelves. Before him was a large fireplace, as wizards seem to be so fond of, a severely formal armchair complete with winged sides, and a small couch. A heavy oak table was set between them. To his right was a door, and at the far of the room near that wall, sat a man. He struggled to sit up and reached for his wand, froze when he couldn't find it. The man stood.

"Be still, Mr. Potter, you're safe here." He stepped forward and waved his own wand at the fireplace, sending it roaring to life. In the firelight, Harry recognized him. The man looked near exactly like the memory of Tom Riddle, but that couldn't be right.

"Lord Voldemort."

"I see you're mind is working as it should be. I was afraid your brains had been addled by that lug of a cousin of yours."

"Pig. Pig of a cousin," Harry mumbled as he surveyed the room for possible escapes.

"Put those eyes back in you head, Potter. You can't even walk at this point. There's no point in looking to run." Voldemort came closer, but no so close that they could touch. He couldn't risk the boy panicking yet. "Even if you regret accepting my proposal, you must stay for a short while. At least until you are healed. If you please, I will send you back to Dumbledore, though I assure you you will have a much more pleasant summer staying with me here."

"Where is here?"

"You are in my home and headquarters. This room is in a secluded wing of the mansion so no one but you and I know you are here. Here, drink this." Harry examined the offered vial of potion as it was held before him. He went to lift his arm to take it, and found he couldn't. The Dark Lord must have seen his grimace, for he awkwardly moved forward, but stopped and summoned a house elf instead. The elf kneelt on the bed beside Harry and brought the vial to the boy's lips. He carefully drank. He forced himself to swallow the foul liquid and looked awkwardly at his bedspread, embarrassed by his obvious lack of strength. Lord Voldemort moved to Harry's bedside.

"You've been through quite an ordeal, Mr. Potter. Get some rest. I'll be in to see check how you're doing in a little while. Should you need anything, call for Biddy," he gestured to the house elf. He turned and left the boy to him thoughts.

Harry watched the door close behind the man he barely knew. He was at a loss as to why the Dark lord Voldemort would not only leave him alive when he had the chance to kill him but why he would offer help, even house him in his own home. Harry began settling back into the covers when he noticed Bitty standing not far off.

"Um, you can go, if you want."

"Yes, Sir." Biddy bowed low so the tip of her nose brushed the carpet, and disappeared with a pop. Harry soon felt into a restless slumber. Swathed in the heavy blankets, he dreamt.

Lord Voldemort was sitting, leaning heavily on his forearms against the edge of a desk, eyes focused on laced fingertips. His left thumb tapped softly against his right. Harry hovered beside him, toes trailing against the flood boards.

"I wouldn't normally say this, so listen closely." Voldemort kept his eyes on his fingers. Harry could see a figure cloaked in shadow standing stiffly near the oaken door. "I am asking for your assistance. Not only assistance, but advice." Harry felt the atmosphere shift. There was a bargain floating between the two dark men before him. The Dark Lord still held the cards, but Harry could taste the anticipation seeping from the man near the door. "You have betrayed me many times; I should have killed you years ago. You are the very enemy I should fear worst. Your connections against me could have brought my downfall time after time. But for some reason, you never quite said enough to ruin me. I know you have been mentally torn, and I have a solution for you."

The man at the door shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"You have knowledge I want. I have power you crave. He can supply you with similar power, but he won't. Serve me as I ask, you shall be my second. You shall have a hand in the single greatest undertaking of the century."

"And if I refuse?" the man at the door asked softly.

"I may just have to kill you for all of your past betrayals."

The man stepped forward after a moment and lowered his Death Eater's hood.

"I accept."

Harry woke with a gasp. He sputtered and choked as he tried to catch his breath. The face of the cloaked man burned behind his eye lids when he blinked. Snape. The man who had done so much for him, whether he wanted to admit it or not, had finally left the Light behind.

He swallowed with some difficulty and struggled to prop himself on his elbows, pushing back the covers.

"Biddy," he rasped. The elf popped into being nearby. "Help me up?" the elf took hold of the covers and helped him push them ba rest ck. She got a glass of water and he sipped.

"Mr. Harry Potter ought to rest. No good to get up so soon."

"Don't worry, Biddy, I'll be alright. Do you think you could bring me some tea?" Bitty nodded and popped out again. Harry sipped his water and mulled. His summer was steadily becoming more and more complicated.

So began the beginnings of change.


	5. The Truth about You

The truth about You

Voldemort stood in the doorway of Harry's bedroom, watching as Harry slept. He was resolute. Harry had been there a few days so far, and he was slowly beginning to adjust, getting out of bed and exploring his new room, not looking over his shoulder at the door every other minute anymore. He'd even ventured so far as to draw the drapes and pull a book off the shelf between his frequents rests. Voldemort had decided it was time to approach him. As a ray of sun struck his brow, Harry began to stir and Voldemort swiftly closed the door and turned away, wandering into the complex beyond the bedroom.

The Dark Lord could feel the boy getting restless. Too much risk in leaving his bedroom, but that didn't keep him from wanting too. Voldemort dusted off his robes and approached the bedroom door again. He rapped lightly and pushed it open.

At the sound of the knock Harry had frozen. He'd been sitting cross-legged on his bed, considering what few options he had. As the Dark Lord entered, he tensed and had to stop his hand from jumping to his stinging scar. Thankfully he'd been sitting facing away from the door so his initial shock wasn't seen.

"Mr. Potter. Good Morning," Voldemort greeted civilly, "I trust your stay here so far has been comfortable enough. You've had anything you've needed?"

"Yes," Harry spoke slowly in return, "The house-elves have been very kind to me."

"And your wounds? Healing quickly?"

"They're getting there." He paused awkwardly, "The potions you've given me have helped a lot. Thanks...for, well..."

Voldemort held up a hand, trying to ease the tension between them. Both of them recognized how out of place this little meeting was. Voldemort probed gently, trying to find out what was going on in the boy's head, first with his own mind, but finding barriers there he decided to use words. He could break through easily enough, and Harry probably wouldn't even notice, but he knew that would cause trouble down the road.

"Once the last of it heals, you're are welcome to stay or go as you please, if you would prefer to return home-"

"No! I- I'll stay." Both were startled by his outburst, and Voldemort continued carefully.

"Well, then allow me to offer a late welcome to my home. You're in the East Wing, far from anyone who might be less than happy about your current circumstances. On the few occasions my follows are here, this wing is off limits to them."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I don't want them having access to all of my home," he answered with a smirk. "And as a Dark Lord, I must have some kind of leverage over my followers. Here, it is because they have no idea what I have in this building. I could be keeping some horrible secret locked in these walls."

"Oh," was all Harry said, no sure how to take Voldemort's jesting.

"Would you like something to eat?" He pulled his wand from his sleeve and conjured a tray with a flick. He paused on the way to floating it over to him. "Have some tea."

"No thank you."

"Very well." He picked up the cup himself. He watched Harry fidget nervously under his stare.

Harry wasn't just fidgeting though. He held his wand up his sleeve and was trying to consider all of his options. He could just leave, but obviously he didn't know the whole story.

"Why have you changed so suddenly?" He asked. "The Voldemort I know would never sit down to tea with Boy-Who-Lived, but you haven't killed me yet either." Voldemort pulled an armchair up to the bed and sat. Elbows on his knees, hands folded, he began.

"Answered easily enough. However, you first must know some history. Would you like to know why I targeted your family 16 years ago?" He watched Harry carefully, who put his toast down and nodded slowly. "Your father wasn't anything special to me, no matter what you've heard. I'd heard of him, of course, a good man and a powerful wizard. He was working for Dumbledore so he was on my list of targets, but I wasn't as intent on him as people seem to thing. He was a nuisance more than anything; someone I'd kill if I had the chance but wasn't about to go out of my way for. My first target was you, second your mother. I would have let her live if she hadn't gotten in the way."

Harry didn't know what to think and said, "I don't understand. What was a baby to you?"

"In general a baby meant nothing. But you were special from the start. You won't want to hear this, but you'll never understand until you know the whole story. Now I'm not proud of this, but it's the truth. I was young, foolish, proud. I was intoxicated with power. I never took part in the festivities my followers were so fond of. Even in my most inner circle, their celebrations were terribly vulgar. But one night a raid had gone very well and I had my head in the clouds. They'd taken some of the women.," he stopped to take a breath and gage Harry's reaction, but the boy's face was blank. "I didn't know her back then, she was just a girl. Fresh out of school, I believe she was planning her marriage at the time. Well, I'll leave out the details but the next day we let the women go and in a few weeks she was married. Nine months later you were born. I spoke to her the night she died. She never told her husband."

"I don't understand."

"That woman was Lily Potter, Harry. The wedding and raid were so close together, the timing worked out, and James never knew the difference. My followers gave the women potions so that a child wouldn't be conceived,and even if one were there would be no resemblance to the man. Lily took matters into her own hands when she found out, added her own charms and such. She did a good job. You look just like James." He watched Harry stare at his hands. Harry stood and went to open the door. He stood there staring at the floor for a few moments.

"Get out."

"Harry-"

"Get out."

The Dark Lord stood. He tried to make out what expression the boy had but his face was turned down. He turned, almost went to touch Harry's shoulder, thought better of it, and left, for the first time in many years at the command of another. The Dark Lord had missed the shallow puddles forming at the toes of Harry's socks. Harry shuddered, furiously slapped the tears from his cheeks and slammed the door.

Several hours passed. Lord Voldemort returned to Harry's little suite that evening a little before sunset, hands in pockets, a tray floating obediently behind him. He cast a quick freshening charm to neaten his hair and robes, and knocked on Harry's door. When no response came, he pushed it open gently. Harry was sitting against the backboard of his bed, a pillow laying on either side. His knees were pulled against his chest with his arms tight around them. He was staring into dead air.

"Mr. Potter," the Dark Lord ventured. When the boy continued to stare he tried again, "Mr. Potter."

"What?" Harry snapped.

"We haven't finished the story yet," Voldemort replied as he put the tray on the low table before the fireplace and poured himself a cup of tea.

"You raped my mother. What else is there to know?" Harry sneered.

"I did. But before you become too entrenched in that idea, consider. Why does that upset you?"

Harry looked at him incredulously.

"Why does that bother me? You raped my mother! In all the world, there are few more horrifying ideas!"

"True. But take that away. It's universally horrible, alright. Susan Bones, your classmate, say her mother was raped, would that bother you?"

"Yes. Intensely," Harry replied as he scooted forward until his legs hung over the end of the bed. His scar was stinging intensely, but, absorbed in the conversation, he ignored it.

"But not personally. Mrs. Bones is just a woman. She's nothing particular to you except that her daughter is a girl you know."

"That's not true!"

Voldemort shook his head at Harry's stubbornness. "You can be as self-righteous as you want, but that won't change how you feel. Something happening to Mrs. Bones would upset you, but not in a very strong way. That's just the way the human mind works. You would feel no where near as bad for Mrs. Bones as you would for, say, Hermione Granger."

He saw Harry tense out of the corner of his eye at the use of the girl's name.

"Your own mother, through no fault of her own, is the same. She was a woman. You've heard stories of her but you don't know her."

"I can still hear her screaming in my dreams," Harry said quietly, defiantly. Voldemort sat in a chair at the foot of the bed.

"I know that it's too late and I can never do enough to prove it, but I am sorry. If there was a way to give you your mother now, I would."

"Why should you care? Like you said, she was just girl. Just a girl who happened to catch your sick eyes long enough to decide she'd be a good toy to celebrate with."

Voldemort winced slightly at the cutting tone and continued with care, "I care for the same reason I offered you a place here this summer. There is more to the story. That is, if you'd like to hear."

Harry tried to control his racing thoughts. "Go on," he said.

"When I was inhabiting Quirrell I had intended only to use him long enough to gather my strength. The summer before your first year at school, I realized that that had gone on long enough. I was debating whether to try for a body of my own then or to wait a little longer, when we happened to be in the Leaky Cauldron the same day you were."

"That was my first day in the wizarding world. Funny that we ran into each other."

"Funny wasn't the word I would have used back then. I knew you had lived, of course. Everyone knew. I didn't know, however, how you were. I was a mere shell of my past self and for all I knew you could have been crippled or locked up in St. Mungos. To see you alive and well infuriated me and I decided to take advantage of my host's position in the school to get to you. When you killed him, I was at a loss. Lucius Malfoy became my new host, though not in physical way Quirrell had accepted. At that point I was too weak to accomplish much of anything, so Lucius acted as my link to the outside world and did what I needed him to. He planted my old diary in little Ginny's cauldron so I could act through my memory, which was very strong in the school. Hagrid will never forget me, neither will Dumbledore especially."

"I thought you just wanted to kill off Muggleborns in your rein of terror."

"Well yes, but there were other aspects. My basilisk nearly convinced the school you were mad and I got to send a message that I was still out there. Multiple plans worked themselves in. But," he smiled grimly, "you overcame once again. And now I knew that you're a parsetongue as well. Then you planted that sock of yours and freed Dobby. I admit, I almost admired you for a moment then. That was underhanded and sneaky, but you thought quickly and found a way to get at the one man still connected to me, after taking a bite from the basilisk no less. But whatever I felt at the moment, there was this underlying frustration. You just wouldn't die."

"I come from a hearty breed. Gryffindors you know, brave and all."

"Yes, indeed. Foolish, quixotic, brawn with no brain all in all."

Harry glared at him. "Get on with the story already," the boy pushed.

"Alright, yes, yes. So you refused to just die for me. I spent the next year thinking and planning. I knew the tri-wizard tournament was coming to Hogwarts and decided that I must make my move then. I hadn't planned on killing the Diggery boy, but he didn't harm my plans too much. You know how the rest of that goes. The interesting part is the part about your blood. I had never been completely sure that James wasn't your father until I heard you were a parseltongue. Lily hadn't been sure either. But with your snake talking I was assured that yes, we shared the same blood line and that our relation would be perfect. You see, the potion requires the sacrifice of a blood relation. You may have been my ruin, but now you would be my rebirth. The irony was lovely."

"Quite. Keep going."

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Then came our little fight."

"Little? That was the strangest moment of my life."

"I'm sure. But in that moment, we both got a glimpse of the potential in you. It was not long after that that a thought struck me. You had immense potential; you're remarkably strong-willed; and you were in a terrible position at home. You're 17, entering your last year of school. Life starts soon. Right now, where does your future lie?"

"Um, I was thinking of being an Auror, but I don't really know yet."

"Exactly. And why should the great Boy-Who-Lived just be an Auror?"

"What are you trying to get at, Voldemort?"

"And," he smiled again, "You're one of the few willing to say my name. That speaks of an untold bravery and personal strength." Harry snorted. "Anyway to cut to the chase, so to speak, I would like to make a proposition for you. I'll put it simply: leave Dumbledore and come rule with me."

"No." Harry stared at him appalled. Did the man really expect him to accept?

"That's alright; I understand. But before you disregard the idea entirely, think of this. Who's kept you in the dark about what's going on in the world for so long? Who continues to not tell you things until it's too late? Who's failed to protect you countless times when he easily could? And possibly worst, who left you in the hands of the Dursley's all these years?"

"He did it for my protection. To renew my mother's magic."

"Harry, that magic isn't well understood, but wouldn't you think that to renew love magic, you'd have to be somewhere where you're loved? I know you don't want to hear this yet, but you are my son. Whether you accept me as your father is something else entirely, but we are blood relatives. I am your only relative left who doesn't hate you."

Harry looked at him confused and asked, "You don't hate me?"

"No. I hated you for all those years because...of what you represented." He struggled to word his thoughts correctly. This was not a topic he enjoyed discussing. "My....failure, my weaknesses, my ruin, my one real connection to the people. Now though you are an individual and growing into something more than a symbol. But as a symbol you now represent my rebirth and a hope for the future for the Dark or Light, whichever you eventually choose."

"But why should I chose your side of the war? I've fought against you and for Dumbledore for so long, why should I switch suddenly?"

"Because I can offer you much more than Dumbledore can. I can teach you magic you won't learn in school."

"Dark, illegal magic."

"Some of it perhaps. But notice too, in a school system there's only so much you can learn. Each professor must take care of many students. I would only have you. We would also have access to some of the rarest magical texts, some of the richest people in the wizarding world. The opportunities are endless."

"Dumbledore can teach me magic too and he has plenty of resources."

"With me, you won't be a pawn. You must have realized that Dumbledore has this "greater good" concept he likes so much, and he uses you as an instrument to achieve that. He cares more about helping strangers than you. I can offer you power and a position in my new world, at my side, second in command. And eventually I will die. Then you will lead as my heir."

Harry stared into the bed covers, thinking.

"That's not all, you know. You can shed that Boy-Who-Lived persona. So far others had built your life, decided everything. You've had no say. You didn't ask to be famous. You didn't ask for me to target you. You didn't choose the Dursley's, ask to be Dumbledore's favorite, be the Godchild of a wanted man, enter the Tri-Wizard Tournament, or kill Cedric. So far, if my sources are correct, the only thing you've chosen is to refuse to be sorted into Slytherin. It's time you take you life into your own hands. You can take the path laid out for you: kill me, become the Light's hero, join the Ministry. Or you can decide to join me: shock the world, establish a following, rule. I'm not forcing you to do anything, unlike the rest of the world. Anytime you want to leave, just say the word and you're back to your old life. I won't hold you here. I've been planning this since I was resurrected, and I want the choice to be yours."

"I don't....want to kill you," Harry looked up slowly with his realization. Voldemort nodded with his little smile.

"I know you don't. You would have killed me by now if you did. We've been talking for a quite a while." Harry was surprised to see the sun went down long ago. "I'm going to leave you for a while. You have a lot to think about."

"Voldemort," Harry called as he began to leave. "This isn't right. These big changes don't just happen because I have something that could be useful. There has to be more. And this is really just plain out weird. Tell me why I should believe anything you're saying." Voldemort took a moment to gather his thoughts, then sat reluctantly on the end of Harry's bed. Harry hoped this wouldn't take long, as the closer the man got the worse his pain was.

"I've had a year to think about this, Harry. A year is a long time to think. In that time, I did a little research on you. The more I learned of your achievements and skills....I began to feel proud that my....my child, my flesh and blood was doing so well when he was virtually alone in the world. I began to think of how you could excel given the proper instruction and opportunity....for the first time, I actually liked the idea of having a son. Someone to teach, guide, honestly care for. I'm not inhuman, no matter what my followers believe. I have a living heart, and though it has been rather undernourished most of my life, it still beats." Voldemort searched Harry's face for some sort of emotion, and was not surprised to see his brows knitted in a confused, searching stare.

"No one has ever spoken so openly to me before."

"Never?" Voldemort prodded.

"No," Harry said quietly. "Dumbledore never could, even if he wanted to. None of the adults would even think of exposing me to anything they could help. The kids in school don't trust me. My friends...they do the best they can. But the person most honest with me is Snape, and that doesn't say much."

"Rest assured, Harry. I will not lie to you here," Voldemort said and began to clean up the tea tray. "You have a lot to think about. I will leave you to your thoughts unless you have more questions." When Harry didn't speak, he picked up his tray and left, closing the door behind him. Harry collapsed back on the bed and pressed his palms against his forehead, willing the pain away. An hour late Biddy appeared, unasked, with a cup of tea.

"No thank you, Biddy. It's kind of you to think of me, but I'm not thirsty," Harry said from his bed.

"It is more than just tea, Harry Potter sir. Biddy sees Master in pain, and added pain potion," she said and placed the cup on his nightstand. "Drink, Master. Will help." Before he could thank her, she popped away. He smiled softly at her thoughtfulness, but hesitated to drink when he smelt what he thought was a sleep-inducing drought. After a moment he downed the cup and settled into into the covers, thankful when the haze of sleep overcame him.


	6. Gone Away and Back Again

Chapter 6.

Harry woke to a sharp rapping on the door. He grabbed his glasses, rolled out of bed, and pulled open the door. There was Lord Voldemort, amused with the boy's tousled look.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter. I'm sorry to wake you so early, but I thought you might like the tour of the mansion before you decide whether or not to give it up. I'll be back in half an hour if you'd like some time to get ready. Again, Good Morning."

Harry quickly bathed and dressed and combed his hair as best he could. Soon enough Voldemort was back and Harry ventured from his room for the first time since his arrival. His room opened into a large sitting area complete with fireplace. A large couch sat before it, a few armchairs beside. To the left of the fireplace was a door leading to a study with a desk in the middle, smaller fireplace, and a few bare bookshelves. Voldemort explained that this room was new for Harry, in case he stayed long enough to begin his studies. Farther down that wall another door lead to a small bathroom. Opposite the fireplace, across the room there was a little kitchenette.

"It's wonderful. Thank you," Harry told the Dark Lord.

"If you need anything, let me know and I'll see what I can throw together for you. As long as you're here, you're my guest."

"That's a rather strange idea, if you think about it too long."

They continued their walk. The main exit was off the side of the kitchenette. Once outside, Harry saw that his rooms were part of a long hallway. When he squinted in the semi-dark, Voldemort waved his want and lightened the hall. The hallway begin several feet to the left, and continued on an unknown distance to the right, where it appeared to branch off a few times.

"What's down there?" Harry asked.

"The East Wing holds my laboratories and experiment rooms. I also keep some animals here, like my Owlery. Very few of my followers are allowed this far into my home. At one time Malfoy was allowed here, but now it's mainly Wormtail and Snape."

"But I thought Snape-," Harry stopped short and tried to think of something else to say. "That is, I mean..."

"I'm not sure about Snape. He thinks he's safe, because usually any hint of doubt and the follower is out. But Snape has his uses, even when he's playing spy. He'll have to pick soon though. If I may confide in you something, I think you'll make the difference as to how Snape goes. If you stay with me, that may push him all the way over. Ah but who knows, Snape is an interesting man. He doesn't always act the way I expect he will. You know speaking of Snape, I ought to show you how to avoid my followers here. Watch this."

The Dark Lord tapped the wall with his wand twice and drew a short dash through where he tapped. A gap appeared.

"Welcome to my inner halls. Secret passages if you will. It's how I sneak up on my followers much of the time. All you do is tap somewhere on a wall like I did and it will open up and close behind you. Go on," Voldemort said as he shooed Harry inside. When he climbed in, the hole closed. A narrow, damp, torch-lit hall awaited them.

"So this runs through the entire mansion?" Harry asked.

"Sort of. It's entirely built of magic. Technically there isn't nearly this much space between the hall and whatever is on the other side, but magic makes many things possible, physics be damned." Harry looked at him shocked.

"That's a Muggle reference!"

"Indeed. I may not be fond on Muggle, but one must always know one's enemies. Now, these halls can go anywhere in the building that there's a wall. You are essentially walking in the walls. Now watch this. _Video,_" Voldemort drew a circle on the wall and suddenly the stones were translucent. "We are looking into your rooms here, but you would be unable to see us from the other side. Video is Latin for 'I see.' If I had said Videmus, meaning 'We see' we would be able to see both ways into and out of the wall. Try it," he said as he draw a line through the circle and closed the portal. Harry took out his wand, cast the spell, and watched as the wall disappeared. He didn't see Voldemort's proud smile.

"Come along, there's much to see today," The Dark Lord reopened the wall and stepped out, leading Harry out of the East Wing. The entered a very large, brightly lit circular room. Pillars were scattered throughout and several paintings papered the walls. There were four great sets of doors equidistant from each other around the room, one being the East Wing. Between the North and West Wings was an even greater set of doors. A few smaller sets of doors were around as well.

"You'll see the four Cardinal Directions are marked as Wings. The main doors are the main entrance. I reside in the North Wing. The South Wing contains my meeting halls and guest rooms and that is the only wing a majority of my followers would be in. Finally, the West Wing contains my dungeons and assorted chambers. You'll want to avoid that one unless you're with me, there are dangerous things there. There are some small sitting rooms and reception rooms around the circle as well."

"It's brilliant," Harry mumbled as he stared at the enchanted, vaulted ceilings, huge doors, shining floors.

"The house elves do an amazing job keeping everything in perfect condition. Many of them have been in the family for a long time and are incredibly loyal." A chime rang out and a few owls swooped through an open window. "Ah, mail's in. The chime was a thing of my mother's. She was terrible with time as a child and had every important time of day associated with it's own chime. Hedwig landed on Harry's shoulder, startling him.

"Oh, hello Hedwig. It's good to see you, girl," Harry said with a smile as he lovingly scratched her head. He paused and turned to the Dark Lord. "I left Hedwig with Dumbledore for the summer, since she never enjoys staying with me at eh Dursley's. If she's here...does Dumbledore know where I am?"

"Most likely not. Owls tend to find their own way, and this one looks particularly worn out. Why not call for Biddy? She'll bring some water."

"Good idea. Um, Biddy?" Harry transferred Hedwig to his arm and took the letters from her beak. Biddy appeared with a pop. "Biddy, do you think you could please bring Hedwig here some water and a snack? She's traveled a long way."

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir. Right away." In a moment, she was back with the requested things, and popped off again. Voldemort conjured a perch for her and they gave her he refreshments. Voldemort collected a few letters from the owls who'd come to him and sent them off to the Owlery.

"Who's written you, Mr. Potter?" He asked as he sorted his letters.

"Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron, and Remus Lupin," Harry said, carefully shuffling through the letters. "I'd like to go to my room, if I may." Harry watched Voldemort as he opened a letter with a frown, as felt a mild stinging begin in his scar. When no response came he turned and left on his own, half fleeing the growing pains.

Back in his room, he took advantage of his new study and sat at the heavy oak desk. He opened the letter from Dumbledore first, rubbing his angry scar.

_Harry,_

_The Order is working night and day to find you, please do not fret. I have come to understand that Voldemort has you hidden away. Hopefully you are well cared for where you are. If you have access to parchment, do write back with whatever information you have and news of your condition. We found a worrisome amount of blood in your home and are all concerned for your safety. I trust Hedwig will find you and she knows how to find me as well, so please write soon._

_Albus Dumbledore _

"Well," thought harry, "He really doesn't know where I am." Instead of the predicted fear though, he felt fine knowing that he was beyond Dumbledore's reach. Next he opened Hermione's.

_Dear Harry,_

_Oh dear please write back Harry. We're all terrified for your safety. Are you OK? Do you have proper food and clothing? I don't know what happened, but I heard the adults say something about finding blood. Are you injured? Whatever you need just ask and I'll send whatever I can._

_Hey Mate, this is Ron. Hermione is getting too hysterical so I took the letter from her. Honestly I think this will find you alive and well. I remember what you go through there, so I figure you just up and ran off and we'll see you on the train in September. _

_I'm back. And I'm NOT Hysterical. I'm just worried for you, Harry. You go through enough as it is. They aren't telling us anything and I don't know what to think at all. _

_Please write and let us know you're OK,_

_Hermione and Ron_

Harry expected Hermione to be worried, and Ron not to be, so this was good.

_Harry,_

_I've heard about who you're with. If he hurts you, I swear next full moon I'll tear his throat out. Watch your back._

_Remus_

Harry laughed. He felt a twinge in his chest as he remembered his friends. He knew they were worried sick. He decided to write right away. He was happy to find a supply of writing material in the desk. He pull out a sheet of parchment and began.

_Professor Dumbledore,_

_Thank you for your concern professor, but I promise I'm OK.. I was very badly injured at the hands of the Dursley's this summer, but Voldemort has been really good about getting me the proper potions. I'm almost all healed now, and am up and about here. He hasn't harmed me once and doesn't seem intent on hurting me anytime soon. He actually a really good host, so you don't have anything to worry about. I have access to anything I need. _

_Harry_

_Hermione,_

_Calm down, Hermione. I'm fine. I got hurt at the Dursley's this summer, but I'm fine now. Merlin, do I have a story for you. I have plenty of food and clothes, don't worry. Anything I need I can get no problem. I'm safe, I promise. _

_And Ron,_

_I am OK and I'll see you on that train in September at the latest. I'm glad you aren't worried. Nice to have someone who isn't constantly fearing my welfare. But really, I'm alright. _

_Harry_

_Remus,_

_Thanks, but I can take care of myself. Don't put yourself at risk on my behalf. _

_Harry_

Done with his letters, he folded and sealed them. He pushed open the door and made his way back out of his rooms. Trailing fingers along the stone walls, he went toward the North Wing an knocked on the first door he heard noise from.

"Come in," came Voldemort;s muffled voice within. Harry opened the door and saw the Dark Lord sitting at a large desk in the middle of the room, letters in hand. "Ah, Harry. Come in, have a seat."

Harry rubbed his palm into his forehead and asked, "Something bothering you, Voldemort?"

"What are you talking about?" Voldemort put down the papers he as holding.

"You mean you don't know? Strong emotions on your part cause a reaction in my scar, through our link. Usually pain. It's been stinging since you got your mail." Voldemort watched him carefully.

"Interesting. But yes, you're correct. Something is on my mind. Dumbledore demands your return to his safe keeping. Used everything short of a declaration of war. Of course, he's already used that card."

"Voldemort," Harry said, pulling the man from his angry musing. "I think...I'd like to go back." At the Dark Lord's look of surprise he added: "Everyone is worried about me. No one has any idea what happened. I ought to speak to Dumbledore, and the adults never tell my friends anything. I don't want them to worry."

"I did tell you you could go as you please. I won't keep you here if you don't want to be."

"I can't stay here. I don't know what to think of what you've told me. I can't think here."

"Alright, but I will not send you to the Dursley's. If you must leave, you're going to the Weasley's."

"You-you know where the Weasley's live?"

"Yes. At one point I intended to attack them. They are safe now though. I'll make you a portkey." Voldemort opened a drawer and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside was nestled a wide-banded ring, gold with a dark green germ set in the middle. The band was formed by a mass of intertwined serpents.

"This ring was mine many years ago. I'd like to have it while you make your decision." He cast the necessary spells. "Put it on and it will take you to the field just beyond the Weasley's. Remember, the doors here are always open for you."

Harry took the ring and with a final look at the man who had such a hand, good or bad, in his life so far, he slid it on his left hand and off he went.

Next time he opened his eyes, he was on his butt in the field. He stood and dusted off his pants, examining the new ring around his middle finger. It fit perfectly. It was beautiful really, though he felt rather girly thinking it. When the gem caught the light it sparkled delicately, and the gold shone and the twisting snakes' backs. Tiny diamonds in the eyes glinted with a snake's intelligence. Harry held it to the light for a minute before beginning his trek to the house. As he reached the front door, he pulled the ring off and slipped it in his pocket. He knocked. Mrs. Weasley opened the door and her eyes widened.

"Hi Mrs. Weasley," Harry started before he was engulfed in a hug. He felt tears drip on his head.

"Harry Potter! Oh Harry! You're alright!" She squeezed him tightly. "I was so worried!" She turned, grabbed him by the hand, and pulled him inside. She took him straight to the fireplace, threw in some Flood powder and yelled "Number 12 Grimmauld Place!" Harry was pushed in and soon he was covered in soot in an empty room. He made his way toward the kitchens. He could hear muffled voices inside. He pushed open the door and saw the Order seated around the table. He quickly made his way to the cupboard and began making tea while they argued.

"Tea anyone?"

"No thank you, Harry...Harry?" Dumbledore responded before turning to stare. Harry braced himself for the interrogation.

And it came. The next several hours were spent in a question-answer session between the Order and Harry. Harry's standard response quickly became "I don't know. I can't remember." He just couldn't bring himself to reveal some things. Eventually Dumbledore asked for a private word and lead him out of the kitchen and into a study. Dumbledore went to the window and stared out, hands clasped behind his back.

"You can tell me the truth, Harry."

"Sorry, what?"

"The truth. I know you were lying most of the time in there."

"I wasn't lying, Sir."

"You said you were beaten by your family and not the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Sir. Voldemort provided me every potion I could have needed and went out of his way to make sure I was comfortable, especially since I couldn't really move very much at first."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No, he never gave a reason," Harry fibbed.

"And then he just let you go?"

"When I was mostly healed I told him I couldn't stay there and, yeah, he just let me go."

"How curious," Dumbledore said softly and took a seat behind the desk.

"I kinda figured he just wants to kill me when I can provide a fight instead of when I'm down, and he must have known somehow that you wouldn't know what had happened," Harry said with a bitter tone.

"Harry-" Dumbledore started.

"No!" Harry said stubbornly, standing swiftly. "I could have died there, Professor! My worst enemy saved me instead of the mass of people supposed to be watching out for me. You didn't even know I was in danger. My 'family' has taken every opportunity to try and break me, take everything from me. The Weasleys must have told you how little food I get there, how little care they have for me!"

"Harry, it's for your own good. Your's mother's magic has to be renewed."

"My mother's magic won't protect me from Dudley's or Vernon's fists," Harry said through his teeth as he turned and walked out. He tried to hide his rapidly building anger and act normal as he returned climbed to the room he usually shared with Ron. Friends drifted in the rest of the day, guided by rumor of Harry's return.

He stayed for four days. Every new morning he felt more and more constricted there. His friends smothered him and he was sure that Dumbledore had told them not to leave him alone. When the boys went out to play, he was always given the positions the required the least effort, the least likely to get hurt. Everyone was constantly checking on him, but wouldn't talk to him much, as though he were made of glass. The few who knew where he had been, like Dumbledore and Remus, all acted strangely around him, like he might break out with dark curses with a wrong word. He found that he was locked out of meetings, including ones concerning him. Dumbledore evaded his questions. By the third night he couldn't take it anymore and wrote Voldemort. He had enjoyed the freedom he had there. Voldemort had shown no hostility to him, and he actually felt safe. But worst of all, the longer he stayed with these people the worse things he heard said about Voldemort, and the harder it was to keep from defending him. Something was changing and he needed space to figure it out. He thought he'd get that space away from the man who caused it, but now he found he was wrong. Come the third night, he was grinding his teeth against the restraints and wrote a letter to Voldemort.

_Voldemort, _

_I can't take it here. How soon can I come back?_

_Harry_

The next morning he received the response.

_Tomorrow morning._

He waited anxiously. A few questioned why he was so antsy, he told them he didn't want to talk about and they assumed it was remnants of his ordeal. That night he couldn't sleep and he was up early the next morning, before sunrise. He went to the kitchen for some tea ad was surprised to see Severus Snape there.

"Good morning, Professor Snape," Harry greeted as he made a pot of tea.

"Potter. What are you doing up so early?"

"I thought I might make some tea. I couldn't sleep. Would you like some?"

"No, thank you." Harry drank his tea in silence, observing his leave favorite professor from across the table. When he finished his tea he stood to wash his cup and went to leave.

"I think I'll take a walk."

"Watch yourself, boy," Snape warned but Harry was gone. Snape watched him leave, unaware of the role he would soon play in the boy's life.

Harry walked down the street in the morning chill, listening to the birds. He checked that he had his wand and took it out for safety. When he reached the end of the street, he saw a robed figure. The man removed his hood as the boy approached and Harry saw the familiar face of the Dark Lord.

"Mr. Potter," he greeted. "I see that your Headmaster is no longer treating you to your liking. Are you ready to go?" Harry nodded.

"How will get there?" He asked.

"Apparition."

"I can't apperate."

"No, but I can. I can apperate us both back to my home. Come here, I must have a good enough hold on you to pull you with me." Harry did and Voldemort gripped his arm tightly. With a pop they were gone and reappeared back in the entrance hall. Harry staggared and fell, and glared at the Dark Lord's smirk. As Harry stood and dusted off his knees, the Dark Lord suggested that he return to his rooms for a little while, a few things needed to be taken care of this afternoon. Harry thought that a peaceful afternoon with the quiet of just himself would be a welcome relief after the suffocating atmosphere of Number 12. Back in his rooms, Harry reflected on how well he and the Dark Lord seemed to get along. Alone together, forgetting about their differences, they could almost be friends.


	7. A New Look, Dark Curses

Chapter 7.

Less than an hour after Harry had returned, he couldn't sit still. Nothing in his rooms could hold his attention, so he decided to go out and explore a little. Going down the hall his room was connect to, he passed by an assortment of doors. He stopped at a heavy set and pushed them open.

It was a library, bright with morning sun the poured through great windows with drapes pulled back. It warmed the velvet chairs and sparkled on the vaulted ceilings. Stained glass windows threw puddles of color on the floors. The walls were paneled warmly with wood. On most were sunk-in bookshelves filled with meticulously organized tombs, so tall that had four of him stood on top of each other, he'd not be able to reach the top. Pillars dotted the room and on their sides hung flaming torches. Harry wandered over to a large oak table with matching chairs. Sitting on top were two green lamps. These made Harry pause: Muggle lamps?

"They're charmed."

Harry startled at the voice behind him. He spun and saw Voldemort leaning gracefully against the door frame, smirk sitting quietly on his face. Voldemort straighted again and walked toward Harry.

"Welcome to my private library. You of course may use it as well, whenever you please. I'm sure you'll find any book you could want here."

Harry took a step out into the shelves and, when no reprimand came, he began to explore. The first several shelves were filled with everyday books, the things any average reader would have. He had cookbooks and storybooks, books on spells and books on people. Farther along were housed smuggle books. Shakespeare, Homer, the Bronte sisters, along with children's books, murder mysteries, smuggle cooking, do-it-yourself manuals, and books on music were all there. From there, the farther back you walked, the more complex books you saw. These were books on magic: ancient magic, newer magic, and smuggle magic (commonly known as Wiccan magic). Toward the very back stood the books on Dark magic, Black magic, Curses, Anger and Pain spells, Enchantments, and all the books forbidden by the ministry. The very last shelf on the back wall was encased in glass. Here were the oldest books in his collection and the most prized. Tombs written in foreign illegible tongues written on ancient paper that crumble in one's hands stood proudly beyond the glass proclaiming their secrets to modern mind, deaf and dumb to their stories.

Harry spent most of the morning wandering the library, reading from the many books. He found all the all old children's stories he had missed as a boy and spend most his time with them, simply emerged in the pleasures of the fairy tales and nursery rhymes he had never before had a chance to see. That was how Voldemort found him at noon, curled up in one of the chairs, nose buried in book of fairy tales. He took a moment just to watch his son. His son.

He glided silently to the boy's chair and stood behind it. He reached down and closed the book in Harry's hands. Harry jumped out of the chair and turned to face his "attacker." Voldemort dropped the book on the chair.

"Lunch time," he informed Harry. "Follow me."

Voldemort lead Harry out of the library and down a long hallway.

Voldemort explained what was behind many of the doors as they passed them, realizing that Harry would want to explore and hoping to curb his curiosity. A small section of doors, however, were different. Most doors were innately carved, some with symbols representing what they hid. But these odd doors were blank. Some were battered and bruised; none had doorknobs. When Harry asked about them, Voldemort shook his head and remained silent. After the seventh door and seventh question, Voldemort said that he'd tell Harry when he was ready. The dark lord never specified whether "he" was Harry or himself, and Harry did not ask.

They spent the day together, wandering the mansion. Voldemort enjoyed the boy's enthusiastic responses to everything new. Having been raised with Muggles himself, he understood the awe at discovering a wizard's way of life. When Harry lay in bed that night, he was surprised to find that not once today had he felt unhappy or in danger or anything. For the first time since staying with the Weasleys, he was happy away from Hogwarts. He felt happy, and weirder still, safe.

Harry woke to the warmth of sun on his face and the music of morning birds. The first thing he saw was the Dark Lord pulling back the curtains in his room. The man turned when he heard Harry stir and brought him a tray. Harry laughed: the great Dark Lord was serving a child breakfast in bed.

Voldemort glared at the laughter at his expense and told him, "Don't get used to it."

He pulled up a chair and watched Harry eat. When the boy got up to gather his clothes for the day, Voldemort commented on how well he seemed to have healed.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better.," Harry paused for a moment. " I've been thinking."

"Yes?"

"What am I going to do about school? Dumbledore knows I'm with you, but once I'm back at Hogwarts, I don't know what's going to happen."

"Actually, I've been thinking about that." Voldemort picked up Harry's empty tray and put it on the table by the fireplace for the house elves. "You will not be returning to Hogwarts this year." At Harry's grief-stricken look he spoke a little softer, "That school is filled with people who either adore you or hate you. Those who hate you are a danger. That entire school is a gossip vine, and when word spreads of your bloodline, what do you think our fan club will do? The same thing they did in your second year." Harry frowned.

"But most of the people who hate me are your followers. Couldn't you do something for me?"

"Not without causing undue suspicion."

"I guess I understand," Harry mumbled.

"Good," Voldemort said as stood.

"Wait!" Harry called after him as his father turned to leave. "What if- what if you taught me here? What if you taught how to keep others from finding out? Occlumency, glamors, whatever there is. Then I could still go to school and still see my friends. And if people find out, well there have been worse rumors about me, and Dumbledore will lie for me. You know he will."

Voldemort looked thoughtful and responded, "I suppose we could try it. We can work the rest of the summer and if it works out, then I'll send you back to Hogwarts." He was unprepared for the rib-crushing hug his son would give him.

"Thank you!" After a moment Harry seemed to realize just whom he was hugging and pulled back, shocked. He scrambled across the bed and almost ran to his wardrobe. "I- I have to- to get changed…" He stuttered. Voldemort left surprised, but smiling. Maybe this would work out after all.

After Voldemort left, Harry sank to the floor in shock. He had hugged Lord Voldemort. And now his scar was letting him know just what a bad idea it had been.

"I must be out of my mind," Harry said to himself. He had gone so far as to beg to be taught how to hide from and lie to his friends. He decided that he must be mad.

He dressed slowly, considering his options. He realized that he'd been letting his fame take over. He wasn't himself anymore. Everything he'd been doing had been based off what people expected him to do, not what he wanted. Coming here was the first he'd done since fifth year just because he wanted to. It was freeing. In the short while it took him to prepare for the day, he'd made some big decisions. He wasn't going to think about what others thought of his actions anymore. He was going to do what he wanted and what he thought was best.

Harry retreated back into his room and pulled out a book. He pushed all thoughts of anyone else out of his mind.

When lunch came around, there was a knock at his door. Knowing that the only person who knew he was there was Voldemort, he invited him in without taking up his wand.

Voldemort smiled when he saw Harry. The boy was sitting, with his back to the door, and for once hadn't jumped up in fear of him ready to curse him if need be.

"Good afternoon, Harry. I thought we might discuss your lessons over lunch."

"Sure, just a minute." Harry detached himself from the chair and put his book away. Together, the two of them went to Harry's small kitchen, just a door down from his bedroom. Harry stopped Voldemort when he went to call a house elf. "Allow me."

For the next half hour a very amused Dark Lord sat watching his son rush around the kitchen in practiced motions, preparing them a meal. Harry must have had the house elves stock his kitchen, as Voldemort hadn't seen some of these foods before.

In the end, it was worth the work. Harry put everything away quickly and presented his father with the meal on a serving platter. Voldemort was sure to compliment Harry on his cooking, although it was beyond him why he wouldn't just call for a house elf.

While they ate, they discussed what to do about Harry's lessons. Harry wanted to learn disguises, but Voldemort thought that if he was to begin teaching Harry, the boy ought to learn more. They decided to use mornings and afternoon for lessons, leaving the evenings and weekends for free study (here Harry mumbled something sounding like "homework".) They would cover all aspects of harry usual lessons at Hogwarts, plus a little extra. Harry wasn't aware of Voldemort's intent of teaching him Dark magic. Harry muttered a complaint against the heavy work load too loudly.

"You did ask me to teach you. And I'll not have you falling behind in school this year. I've seen some of your grades, Harry," Voldemort said. Once Harry realized that Voldemort was teasing, he rolled his eyes. He marveled for a moment how odd it was for him to be playfully teasing a man who had tried to kill him so many times…

"Stop that, Potter," he scolded himself mentally. "That's the reputation talking. You are your own and if you want to tease a Dark Lord, so be it."

"Well," Voldemort interrupted Harry's thoughts, " shall we begin?" Harry nodded. "Follow me" They left his room and turned left. Out into the main hall, Harry followed him into the North Wing. A few room down, the entered one. Long and brightly lit, the ceiling was high and lined with high windows which let in long streams of sunlight. Along one short wall was a collection of dummies. Along the opposite there was an assortment of smuggle-type weight equipment and protective floor mats. Off to one side sat a squat, well-beaten table with a couple old chairs and a few piles of texts.

"Where shall we begin?" The Dark Lord sat on one of the old chairs, leaning eagerly on his knees. "What would you like to learn?"

"Well...my favorite subject is defense against he dark arts," Harry said with a smirk. Voldemort smiled.

"We will need to cover defense at some point," He watched at Harry' face carefully. After a minutes Harry gave him a weird look.

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Come here." Voldemort pulled another chair in front of him and Harry sat warily. Voldemort examined him closely, but when he went to touch the boy's face Harry jerked away. Voldemort apologized.

"No, it's not your....well actually it is your fault." He touched his scar. "It hurts too much if we touch. Don't you remember our duel in the graveyard? Just being around you makes it burn, but that's not so bad. I'm used to that."

"I'm sorry about that night. I know I hurt your greatly."

"You Crucioed me."

"Yes, I did. I've been through an incredible change since that time..." Voldemort drifted off into thought, Harry broke in: "But what were you looking at before?"

"Indeed," Voldemort muttered, wrenched from his thoughts. "I do believe, Mr. Potter, that my potions are wearing away."Voldemort conjured him a hand mirror. Harry stared at his reflection.

"Should they be? I mean, I thought no one was supposed to know you're my father," Harry said as he prodded and poked at his face. The Dark Lord warmed at Harry's appearing so comfortable saying that now.

"They were meant to begin wearing away around your thirteenth birthday, so that any changes would be attributed to your growing up. It would seem that your mother's protections has extended their longevity though. I had thought you looked far too much like James..."

"So, soon I will look like... you?"

"Or more like Lily. Whatever you were actually meant to look like. Through quite a bit of magic I have restored myself to look as I should, so you may very well look as I do. Not too bad, I hope," Voldemort smiled. Harry took note of his brown hair, liquid brown eyes, and elegant stature and decided that maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps he'd get rid of those knobby knees of his, or the impossibly messy hair. He didn't want to lose his mother's eyes though.

"I imagine that by the end of the summer, the charms and potions will wear off on their own," Voldemort said carefully. He was unsure how the boy would respond to this physical manifestation of their relation.

"Could we...could we take them off sooner? I'd like to know what I really look like," Harry questioned just as carefully.

"We could. Are you sure you're ready for that?" Harry nodded. "Very well. Brace yourself. I have a spell to help break them down, but I've never used it on myself and don't know what other affects it could have. You're still sure? Very well. Abstergo!"

Harry closed his eyes as he felt the spell take hold. He felt his hair lift from his scalp before settling gently back down, as though moved by the wind. All of him shivered at the many sensations that rocked him. He was surprised to feel no pain.

"Open your eyes, Harry." Harry followed the directions, and found his hand mirror had stretched into a full length one, hovering gently in front of him. He was shocked, but pleased, with his transformation. His round nose was straighter, like his father's. His eyes still held that brilliant emerald shine, but some of his father's brown has crept in around the edges. His jet black hair had softened into a dark brown, almost like his black but not as stark. He was still pale, but it was more even, softer, less like he spent the summer in a cupboard and more like he was just naturally fair skinned. His eyes and face were slightly less round and baby-faced. His face shape resembled Lily's more closely now. He still looked like Harry Potter, but enough was different that the change was noticeable.

"I'm still short," Harry complained. Voldemort smiled, glad his reaction was good.

"Give it some time. You'll probably shoot up now that the charms are gone. So, you like how you look?" Voldemort went to stand behind him and Harry could see a strong resemblance. He could barely find a trace of James Potter anymore, but there did seem to be a good mix of his mother and new found father.

"I do. I think I look better now. It feels more comfortable. I was always told how much I looked like James Potter; it seemed like too much."

"Lily wanted there to be no doubt, I'm sure." After Harry had had some time to look at his reflection, they began lessons. The reviewed how to reapply charms to hide his new identity and remove them at will. They began reviewing some of his early schooling as well: basic levitation charms, igniting charms, and such like. At the end of the day, Harry watched his father wave a hand and clean the room.

"Sir?" Harry asked. "How are you able to do wandless magic? I thought that wasn't supposed to be possible."

"Oh it's possible. My ability comes from this building. The magic in my home works with me and allows me to do things I could never outside these walls. Dumbledore has a similar ability in Hogwarts. I am able to do a little regular wandless magic, but not much, and usually only when I'm not trying. Regular wandless magic takes intense concentration and preparation. You're welcome to try if you like. I gave up trying to extend that ability long ago but I believe I still remember the technique. You are younger than I was, you may be able to handle it. Tomorrow we will start."

Harry was too excited to sleep that night. In the morning he was early, dressed and ready to go long before usual. He called for Biddy and and asked her to send a message to his father and tell him Harry was awake when he was. Not half an hour later the Dark Lord was knocking on his door. Harry found that he always knew when his father was near, the near constant slight burning in his scar intensified.

"Good morning, Harry. Are you ready for your wandless training?"

"Yes, I am," Harry said eagerly. "When can we start?"

"Now, if you like." Harry made his way toward the door. "No, Harry, we will start that here if that's alright."

"I guess," Harry responded, "but why here?"

"You must be perfectly relaxed and comfortable to begin this sort of training. It will be very difficult and time consuming. It's also easier to work toward if every day you prepare in the same place, and I thought your rooms would be more convenient than the training hall."

"Alright, what do I have to do?"

"Lay down on the couch," Voldemort instructed. Harry followed his directions. "Lay with your arms at your sides and your legs straight, don't let anything touch. Palms up, good, hold you wand gently. I'm going to walk you through some relaxation exercises."

For a little while Harry found it very difficult to close his eyes and try to let everything go in the presence of the Dark Lord, but after a little while, Voldemort saw Harry's breathing deepen and the boy seemed to be comfortable. "Feel the weight of your wand in you hand. Without moving or opening your eyes, cast the simplest spell you can think of."

"Lumos," Harry whispered, and lit his wand for a moment before ending the spell.

"Good. Now, cast it again and try to feel where the magic is coming from. Does it flow through your body first? Can you feel it in your wand hand? Try it a few times." Harry cast the spell a few more times.

"I don't feel anything," he said, disappointed.

"Give it time, give it time. This is only your first tty. I told this would take a while. We will try again tonight." They went through their morning and afternoon lessons. But that evening they tried again and failed again. Harry was beginning to get discouraged, but decided to try again before he went to bed. The Dark Lord tried to a reassure him that the first step was very difficult because he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for.

After a few days of this, Harry was frustrated. He found he couldn't get himself to relax enough anymore, so anxious he was about it. Eventually, Voldemort suggested they come back to this at a later date. But Harry, unwilling to give up so easily, sat on his bed one night and tried to think. He remembered the first time he touched his wand. His entire body had felt thrilled, exhilarated. He tried to remember all his first spells and what they felt like. The first time he talked to a snake. Nothing seemed to help until he got to his Patronus. He remembered that time in his third year, across the lake with Hermione from himself and Sirius, watching his own soul being stolen. He remembered the certainty, the fear, the overwhelming emotion being that spell. When he examined himself close enough, he realized that he had felt the magic build inside his body before the sell was cast. He managed to connect the power to the emotion he felt, and began to see how everything was connected.

He laid down quickly, and ran himself through he breathing exercises Voldemort had taught him. Now he knew what to look for. He cast his little Lumos spell several times. A the last one, he thought he felt something. He focused as closely as he could, but found that Lumos didn't elicit a strong enough reaction. He began different spells, more difficult ones. It wasn't until he got to the stunning spells that he was able to really feel it. He was ecstatic. He ran from his room and tried tracked down his father to tell him the good news.

"Very good, Harry. Congratulations," Voldemort told him proudly. "Well done, well done. Would you like what the next step is?" They discussed Harry's wandless training more in depth. Harry was a little overwhelmed by it, but decided that he ought to try. Next he was supposed pick a spell that he could feel the magic behind it well and begin casting it over and over, slowly lowering his voice to as close to unspoken as he could get and eventually work into saying it only in his mind. Then he was to manipulate objects without using actual spells, such as trying to get a book to open with just his mind, magic, and wand, but no voice or spell. Eventually, if he was able to handle that, he had to wean himself off his wand and try to do these things on his own.. It was a daunting task, but every morning and night he worked. He got up earlier than he usual would for lessons and used most of his free time. Slowly, he made progress.

Throughout the month of July, Harry worked intently on his schooling. He excelled. Even potions, which he usually hated and had no real skill at, he began to appreciate and have a better grasp on. By the end of the month, he was able to make all of his own basic potions. He had little chance of becoming a Master, but he could handle himself from now on. Voldemort was careful to cover a basic Potions curriculum of a seventh year so Harry would do well in class, even with Snape pulling all his old tricks. Harry found that he really enjoyed learning, and decided to try and bring that out in school. But, he realized, it might have been because Voldemort didn't give him homework.

Similarly, throughout July, he felt himself changing. He and Voldemort got along very well. Even in the moments when Harry was reminded of some horror or other they had committed against each other (disintegrating Voldemort's host in Quirrell, forcing Harry into the Tri-Wizard Tournament) they were able to laugh about it. The past was the past and they had a future to build. He sense of humor became more cynical. He was less repulsed by the callus killing style of his father. Voldemort even introduced him to Dark magic, and Harry was surprised to find himself enjoying it. Eventually, the even began covering the Unforgivables.

They day they started that training, Voldemort let Harry sleep in for once. They didn't even begin lessons until the afternoon. When Harry got to the training room, he saw the room cleared of everything but a few dummies. Voldemort stood off to one side, twirling his wand.

"I was thinking of starting something a little different today, Harry. You said you would think about joining me. I think you should understand what it is you'd be getting yourself into should you choose that."

"But I've already been casting Dark spells without a problem."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the Unforgivable Curses," Voldemort watched Harry's responses carefully.

"I can't cast an Unforgivable!" Harry said, shocked.

"Are you sure?"

"I tried cursing Bellatrix Lestrange once, and I couldn't do it. She'd killed Sirius and I still couldn't hurt her. I hated more than anyone else that day. I still couldn't curse her, as much as I wanted to."

"The Unforgivables are interesting in that way. They require certain triggers in different people. Bellatrix enjoys hurting others, so for her it's an incredible want to see another person in pain. Lucius Malfoy's trigger is disgust or anger; he feels they aren't worthy of anything better than that treatment so he has no problem cursing them."

"What about you?"

"My trigger is my ambition, I believe. I know what I want and I know how to get it. If it's through these curses, then so be it. The question is, what's yours?"

"I wouldn't know, Sir. I don't usually curse people."

"Indeed. Do you know why the Unforgivables are unforgivable?"

"Because they're Dark?"

"Well yes, but why? They are emotional curses. The Killing Curse requires the person to truly want to kill. The Cruciatus requires the caster to truly want to inflict that much pain. They simply reveal too much about human nature to be considered 'civilized.' Once you figure out how to cast one, it's only a matter of time before you realize something about yourself. Shall we try?"

"If it's all the same to you, Sir, I'd rather not," Harry said, backing up slowly.

"Harry. You have such great potential. You're doing so well with you lessons. If you never push yourself, you'll never know what you can do," Voldemort said as he cast a spell to animate one of the dummies. "Will you at least try?"

"Well...alright. I guess I should at least try once. But won't the Ministry know?"

"They don't know about any of the magic done here. I took precautions against that long ago. Don't worry about it. Now. Remember that the dummies are simply animated cloth and stuffing. The don't feel pain, they are simply an image of what people would like, should they be cursed. You won't actually be hurting anyone. Although should you want to, I can charm them to look like people."

"Cool," Harry said, getting a little more interested. He had a difficult time hurting real people, but maybe he could curse a dummy.

"Let's start with one of the easiest curses to cast. "Dolerit" is a basic pain curse. Nothing extreme, only causes some aches and pains. I will make you opponent more sluggish and distracted. Watch. Dolerit!" Voldemort cast a blue light at one of the dummies. Harry watched it wince and silently groan, as the dummies lacked voices. Harry felt a weird emotion bubbled in him.

"Try it," Voldemort gestured to a dummy and stepped out of the way. Harry stepped forward.

"Dolerit!" The blue in his spell was lighter and had no noticeable effect on the dummy.

"Again," Voldemort told him.

"Dolerit!"

"Again! Put more energy in it!"

"DOLERIT!" And it worked. Harry grinned when he saw his dummy do the same as his father's. Voldemort clapped his hands together with a smile.

"Good! Good. Moving on."

They covered a short series of other useful pain and subduing spells. Soon Harry realized that his father was building up to the big curses. He didn't know what to think of it, but was saved that decision by his father announcing that the time had come.

"Are you are, Harry?"

"As much as I'll ever be," Harry said and took a deep breath.

"Alright. Let's start with the Imperius. It's the easiest to cast since it requires the least intent. Remember that these aren't real people and you aren't actually cursing anyone and it may come easier."

"How did you learn them," Harry asked, "if it's so hard?"

"My situation was a little different. I started simply because I wanted too. Especially when I was young, I wanted control. I had no control over where I lived, where I went, what I did. At first, I think that'd why I sought the Chamber of Secrets. I wanted control. These curses are one of the most effective ways of controlling someone. If you can easy hurt them and they know it, they'll obey you."

"But I remember, in the graveyard, you scolded Pettigrew for following you out of nothing but fear."

"Fear is only the beginning. First they fear you, but for those who are capable of following you, respect will soon follow. And that is the ultimate goal. There is a fine line between respect and fear, and for those worthy it is easily crossed. But no more of this soul searching. Let us begin casting.

"The Imperius. It can be very difficult to keep hold of someone with it, and even harder to really control them, but the initial casting isn't difficult and a dummy should be no problem for you. Wand at the ready and say 'Imperio,'" Voldemort directed.

"Imperio," Harry said softly and watched the light from his wand touch the dummy.

"Do you feel it?"

"It feels like...a marionette. Almost. It's weird."

"Make it do something. Play with it. It's your toy when it's under your curse." Harry made it dance a little jig. Voldemort chuckled.

"Very good. Congratulations, you've cast your first Unforgivable. This one doesn't seem to be a problem for you. I'm not surprised."

"I imagine it'll be harder if I have to curse a person," Harry said, proud of himself.

"Most likely. Don't let it get to your head. Now we're on to the two hardest of the three. The Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. Ready?"

"I guess..." Harry hesitated.

"The Cruciatus curse is, as you well know, the worst pain curse of them all. For basic torture purposes, it should only be applied for a few seconds at most. Any more and you run the risk of madness, which isn't at all useful when trying to get something out of them. It's also particularly suited towards punishments. I believe you're aware of my fondness for the curse," Voldemort said with an ironic smile.

"Yeah. I kind of got that," Harry said with a remembering wince.

"Well that aside, watch. Crucio!" Voldemort cast his spell at a dummy and they watched it fall to it's knees and writhe on the stone floor. "Seeing that it's a dummy and can't actually feel the pain, I have no qualms about leaving it on. For a regular person, this would be fairly excessive." He ended it. "Your turn. I know you've cast it before, so let's see what happens."

"C-Crucio," Harry said. Nothing happened.

"Oh come on, boy. There was no power in that, no effort. Put some blood behind it!"

"Crucio!" Harry said louder. He got a spark. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't do it."

"Why not?"

"I've never been good at hurting people, even when they gave me good reason."

"Pretend it's someone you truly hate. Malfoy, Snape."

"Alright. Curcio!" Nothing, Harry thought of the Malfoys. "Crucio!" He thought of the lack of support when his being a parseltongue was revealed. Snape constantly picking on him. "Crucio!" He took a deep breath and felt himself wearing off. He dug into his memory and pulled out everything he could. Bellatrix killed his godfather. Malfoy nearly caused the youngest Weasley's death. Vernon denying him basic human rights. Dudley seeing him as nothing but a punching bag. Petunia not even caring about his pain, her own nephew.

"Feel it, Harry, feel your anger," the Dark Lord whispered, behind him now, unseen. "You want them to feel everything you've felt. You want revenge. You can have that and more, with this spell. Fill yourself with your anger!"

"CRUCIO!"

A red light shot from his wand and hit the dummy square in the chest.

"Very good! Very good! Well done, Harry. How are you feeling? Tired yet?" Voldemort came up to him beaming. Harry mirrored his father's smile. He felt something that time. There was a feeling inside his chest, inside his mind. It was different, strange. He wasn't going to stop until he figured out what was going on inside him.

"No, I want to keep going. The next one is the Killing Curse, right?"

"That's the only one left, yes. You know the incantation," Voldemort said as he stepped back to stand observe his son from afar. He seemed too eager for this one.

Harry was left staring at the last standing dummy. He gripped his wand and tried to bring up those feelings from eh last spell. He focused on specific memories. He heard the click of the locks on his door as Vernon locked him in. He saw the thin plate of his daily meal slid through the dog door at the base of his. He felt Dudley's hand steal his letters, Dudley's foot against his side. He went back to his few birthdays they recognized, where all he got was a few paper clips and a stick of chewing gum. He thought of Dudley jumping on the stairs above his cupboard every morning, raining dust on his head.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry felt the magic bubbling inside his gut, rising and filling his chest, clouding his mind. It rolled in waves through his arms and into his hands, his fingers, his wand. The familiar green beam broke lose and struck the dummy in a cloud of emerald. It spasmed and collapsed, unmoving. He struggled to breathe as he realized what the feeling was. He was enjoying this.

"Good job, Harry. That was impressive from your first try. How do you feel?" Voldemort came up next to him and went to put a hand on his son's shoulder, but the boy batted it away and dropped into one of the chairs against the wall. He propped his head in his hands and gripped his fingers in his hair.

"Harry? What are you thinking?"

"I just- I felt something that time. I felt the magic build inside me. I felt...powerful, almost. I felt..."

"In control?" Voldemort sat with him.

"Yeah. I felt calm, empty, but not so cold Like everything depended on me then, and I had the choice to do whatever I wanted." Voldemort nodded understanding.

"Welcome to what enthralled me in the beginning. It's the darkness inside you, Harry. We're all inherently dark; it's natures way. Over the years, rules and laws were put up and our nature was pushed farther back and back to make a civilized, sanitized world. But it's there, that darkness inside you."

"I...I think...I like it," Harry said quietly as he looked up from his hands. "It feels better...freer. I feel like the magic I learned in school was constricted somehow, but this just feels natural."

"Very good, very good. I'm proud of you today, Harry. You've faced something most people wouldn't dream of. Killing, Unforgivable Curses, and the Darker side of humanity."

"I'm tired now."

"Come, I'll walk you to your rooms." Together they made their way back to Harry's room, and Voldemort left him at his bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Harry," Voldemort said and as he closed the door, he heard Harry respond unthinkingly:

"Goodnight, Father."


	8. Presents and First Meeting

Chapter 8

When Voldemort came calling the next day, he found Harry sitting on the couch before his fireplace. He was playing with the ring Voldemort had given him as a portkey to return to his friends. Voldemort sat beside him and pointed out what appeared to be a tiny snake in the gem, made of nothing more than the glittering as the ring caught the light.

"That's a symbol of our family tree. There have always been times when our ancestors were persecuted, for no reason more than that we are all Slytherins, in school house and name. So at many times, our ancestors hid their lineage, like in this ring. If you don't know to look for it you'll never find that snake. It works as a portkey still, by the way. If you ever need to get back here, grasp the ring tightly and think of being here."

Harry didn't respond for a while. He turned the ring over and over in his hands and examined it again. Voldemort was concerned about Harry's silence. He hoped that boy did not regret what he'd said last night. He'd been waiting for his son to take that step.

"I'm...confused," Harry admitted eventually. "You've offered me so much, so much more than anyone has before. I've always wanted to know my father," he added with a smile, "and I finally have that chance. But...Dumbledore has tried his best for me. And my friends. I don't know if I could face them if I agree to go with you. I don't think I could handle the disappointment. They would hate me. What would I tell them?"

"Only what you want to," Voldemort answered. His heart ached to comfort the boy, but with their bond he couldn't even touch him. "Would you like to hear my opinion?" Harry nodded. "You've enjoyed your time here, yes? You've enjoyed our lessons and what I've had to teach you. You've been working on your wandless magic, which you never would have gotten to do with Dumbledore. Here you have freedom never allotted to you before. Anything you could want and more is here. Dumbledore may have tried his best, but his best resulted in the death of your godfather, you friends, your parents."

"Your best resulted in all that."

"Yes, but if Dumbledore was able to he would have prevented it. I can overpower him and often do. He's fighting back, of course, but he won't win. Dumbledore couldn't protect your parents, he couldn't protect Cedric, he can't protect you. I'm offering you a place in the world, a place with power and influence. Dumbledore wants to keep you off hidden in the dark, blind to what's going on." At Harry's troubled look, he added, "Here think of it this way. Are you happy here?"

"Happier than any other place I've been."

"Perhaps if you had more of a taste of what life would be like with me in the long run you would be able to decide easier."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked.

"Let me call the next raid. You can experience what would be required of you and what would change in your life. Then you can decide."

"I guess that sounds reasonable. But what if I decide I don't want to join and run to Dumbledore? Why are you willing to take this risk?"

"My son is worth it. You are worth it. Neither of us has any family left but each other. I didn't raise you as I ought to have, and you weren't raised as you ought to have been. This is our chance to make a family. Let me call the raid. We can talk again after."

"Alright. When will it be?"

"Tomorrow, most likely."

"Great, I get to spend my birthday in the presence of many people who hate me," Harry said, feigning anger.

"Don't worry about that, I think my presents for you will make up for it," Voldemort reassured him. He smirked at Harry's shock. "What kind of father would I be if I didn't get you a birthday present?"

While Harry watched his father leave, Albus Dumbledore was sitting at the kitchen table in Number 12. He was sipping a cup of hot tea when Severus Snape entered. He set down his cup and gestured to an empty chair.

"Severus, where have you been recently?"

"May I have a word with you, headmaster? In private," Snape said quietly. Years of experience taught him to hide his emotions, but years of experience had taught Dumbledore how to spot fear past his facade.

"Of course," Dumbledore responded, putting up a guard of his own. He lead them to a study off the main hall, carefully bypassing the portrait of Mrs. Black. He seated himself behind the desk and invited Snape to sit, but the man waved him off in favor of pacing. "Tell me what's wrong, Severus."

"In the time I've been gone I have been with the Dark Lord. He approached me some time ago with some kind of secret mission. I feared that recently he was questioning my loyalty so I couldn't risk telling you, I hope you understand. He summoned me just after Potter's newest disappearance and since then I've essentially lived in his potions lab. He wanted a potion to void the connection between him and the boy."

"Void the connection? Cut it off completely?"

"Perhaps more like take control of it. I told him I didn't think that that could be accomplished with a potion, so he asked what I would be able to do. I told him that I might be able to make a pain reducing potion, but because of the obscurity of their link I couldn't be sure of much."

"How did he respond to that?" Dumbledore asked.

"Remarkably well. He told me to begin immediately and that should I need anything he didn't currently have available, he would get it for me. He seemed very impassioned about this."

"Did he tell you anything else??"

"No, Albus. I wish he had. It was such an urgent request... Once I started he wouldn't let me leave until I completed it. I believe I did finally find the right ingredients, and if not we'll know when he summons me again," Severus said as he sank into a chair near the desk. "I'm sorry I can't be more helpful."

At that moment a hard rapping was heard at the room and in stormed Mrs. Weasley. Face red with anger she stared down Snape.

"Severus Snape! How could you let him just WALK OFF LIKE THAT?" Her voice rose as she approached. "How could you let him just slip through our fingers!? He's just a boy, just a boy! And you let him wander out alone at night! The very thought! With that- that awful man AFTER HIS LIFE! He could be hurt! Or dead! He could be lying in a gutter somewhere...how could you...," she sobbed and was guided into a chair by the reassuring hands of Dumbledore.

"There, there now, Molly. Catch your breath. There." He sat beside her. "I promise we're doing everything we can to find him."

"Oh Albus, what could that horrible man be doing to him?" She blew her nose on an offered tissue and wiped at puffy, reddened eyes. Dumbledore took her hand and squeezed it.

"Molly, please believe me. If Lord Voldemort was going to hurt Harry, it would be done by now. At this point we can rest assured that Harry will not be harmed."

"Is there anything I can do?" She asked again, as she had every day since the disappearance.

"Go, take care of your children. They need you. Help them think of other things." She sniffled and with a final glare at Snape, left them at peace.

"We must find a way to return him safely," Dumbledore said. "Very Soon."

Back in Harry's rooms there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Harry called from his seat on the couch before the fireplace. He'd been up since dawn, enjoying his first peaceful birthday. He had a comfortable couch, a gentle fire, and a book on wandless magic to keep him company. He was making more progress since their delving into the Unforgivables yesterday.

"Good morning, Harry," Voldemort said as he entered. "Would you like to open your birthday presents?"

"Sure," Harry said, dropping his book on the couch.

"Well don't get too excited. You might hurt yourself." Voldemort said as he lead the way to the dining hall.

"It's just weird spending my birthday with someone for once. I'm used to being locked in my cupboard."

"Cupboard? I thought you had your own room now."

"I did," Harry said solemnly. "But in last couple years...with Vernon's renewed hate for me...he decided I ought to spend my birthday locked in my cupboard. So I wouldn't forget my place in the world. Being a freak and all."

Voldemort tried to swallow his anger. This was not the day for it. When they reached the doors he pushed them open and Harry saw a pile of boxes and letters. Wide-eyed the boy asked, "These aren't all from you, are they?"

"No, these are from your friends. Go, open them." Voldemort watched as his son carefully picked at the pile, as though it would disappear if he moved too quickly. His gaze turned sad when he saw that all of the gifts seemed not to touch him. They were simple and generic. Chocolate frogs, a book or two, ink. Nothing that meant anything. When Harry had gone through all of his gifts, Voldemort brought out the last few. He set a wide box before Harry, a thin long one on top of it, and a very small box on the very top.

"These are from me," he said. "Happy birthday, son."

Harry took the bigger box first. It wasn't wrapped, just a nothing-special box. He lifted off the top and saw a swath of black cloth. Robes. He lifted them out by the shoulders and held them up to his body. They were jet black and silky smooth. They lacked decoration but the very material spoke of wealth and standing. He'd only ever touched one other pair and that was when he bumped into some wealthy man during his stint in Knockturn Alley back in second year. He pulled them over his head at Voldemort's suggestion and the fit was perfect.

"Look who's all grown up now," Voldemort teased. Harry shot him a glare. "You look good, though. A quality pair of robes can make all the difference." Harry went to a mirror on the nearest wall and admired the new robes. They were light as spider's silk and cooler than any other robes he'd worn, despite the layers underneath.

"They're fantastic," he said. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You still have other presents to open." He guided Harry back to the table. Harry took the middle box.

"It's heavy." He ran his fingers across the top and lifted the lid. More black cloth. He pushed back a layer and inside he saw what looked like a cane. "I'm afraid I can walk just fine."

"I think you'll like it better once you've had a closer look."

Harry pulled it out of it's bedding. The handle was a skull in silver with a snake coiled around, the cane simple, straight, and black. Two tiny emerald gems were embedded in the snake's eyes.

"Pull on the skull," Voldemort suggested. Harry did, and it came loose. He pulled it out and admired the crisp metallic sound it made. It was a blade. "Always good to have a little extra protection on you," his father said. "And every upstanding gentleman should own a cane. It's fallen out of favor recently, but they can be remarkably useful."

"Like how Malfoy hides his wand in his?" Harry said as he admired his present.

"No, not really. I've never understood Malfoy's choice with that. He uses his wand all the time, so everyone knows he keeps it in the cane. The point of hiding a weapon is so that you have the element of surprise. No one will be surprised if you whip out a wand. A blade on the other hand? Now you're talking." Harry practiced pulling out the sword and sliding it back in until he could do it quickly and without the initial clumsiness. Voldemort could tell by his smile that he liked it.

"Open your last present."

Harry picked up the smallest box and weighed it in his hand. It was a vial half full of a thick blue liquid.

"I know you've been having problems with your scar since you've been living here with me. I had Severus work up a potion for you. It should take away that pain in your head." Harry looked at him surprised.

"Snape was here?"

"Briefly. He brews most of my potions. I could brew them myself, but it's best to make the followers feel needed," Voldemort said with a chuckle.

"Thank you," Harry said after a pause, touched by the insight in the gift.

"Don't get your hopes up though, I can't be sure this will work until you take it."

Harry flicked open the top an smelled the potion. No scent. He put it to his lips and downed it in a gulp. He coughed and sputtered a little at the taste, but soon felt a cooling sensation wash over him. The ever-constant twinge in his scar dimmed significantly. He walked up to his father and held out his hand. His father took it gently and Harry was thrilled to find that there was no searing pain at their touch.

"It works," he said with a smile.

"Very good," Voldemort said. "Now, I believe it is time for some breakfast."As he called for a house elf, Harry had a thought.

"Father," he said startled, "if you've had Snape make my potion...Dumbledore knows, doesn't he?"

"Severus only knows what I've allowed him to know, and can only tell Dumbledore that much. He knows I wanted a potion and what I wanted it to do. They will make their assumptions, as always. But that doesn't matter right now. They don't know where you are, how to get to you, or what it is I want with you. They are powerless, at least for now." He saw Harry staring into the distance. "Does that upset you, Harry?"

"No, not at all. I rather like the freedom for a change," he said.

"Well, then I believe we have one more issue to address. I've called the next meeting for this evening. I would like you to attend it as a new recruit. Would you like that?"

"Very much," Harry said as he began picking at the eggs brought to him by Bippy.

"You can experience a little of who my followers are, what they think of me, what they will think of you. If you like what you see, you're welcome to attend again. Does sound alright?"

"Yeah, I would like that."

"Alright, then we have work to do!" Voldemort rushed him off after breakfast. He put the boy in his new robes, fitted him for a Death Eater's mask, and began to prepare him for that night.

"The meetings always begin the same. My followers gather in the main hall. My most loyal followers will take that time to intimidate any new recruits, the parents introduce any children who have joined, and so forth. I will open the door to the meeting hall and everyone will enter, masked and hooded. They will form a circle, at one of which there is a platform. I will be sitting there. I will greet everyone, call out traitors, perform a few curses to keep everyone in line, and announce the raid. Do not speak unless you are spoken to. Portkeys will be distributed and attack plans discussed. Everyone will be dismissed and told to await the next summons.

"Harry, there is one last thing. You cannot under any circumstances be recognized, as I'm sure you'll agree. But I must be. My followers don't know the face you do. They remember me as I appeared first in the graveyard. It frightens them. It allows them to believe I am more than a man. Inspires them, as it were. I believe the removal of your charms a little while ago will cover you, you look little as you did. But I must also remove mine. Are you ready?" Harry nodded. Voldemort took out his wand and touched it to his own forehead. Harry watched as the color is his face and hands melted away. Voldemort skin contracted and tightened, nose receded, cheek bones rose. His hair fell away in chunks. Once more Harry stood before the man responsible for everything that hurt him most.

"Harry?" Lord Voldemort said gently. "What do you see?"

"I see the man who tried to kill me."

"Is that what I am?"

"No."

Harry reached forward and put his hand on his father's shoulder. After a moment he pulled him into an embrace. Voldemort wrapped an arm around his son's shoulders and placed a hand on his head, gently smoothed his hair. They were ready.


	9. Treachery and a Confession

Chapter 9

Harry stood in a corner of the main hall that evening as the Death Eaters began to arrive. Voldemort had opened sections of the hall to receive those who Apparated in. As the time of the meeting loomed into sight, the amount of sharp crack began to increase. He saw several people he recognized, many of his schoolmates parents, even a few of his school mates. One of the early arrivals was the Malfoys.

Harry kept his head down and tried to blend in. He watched from outside the circle of socializing and tried to analyze the people there. He saw a flash of blond and caught the eye of Draco Malfoy. He turned away and watched from the corner of his eye as Draco nudged his father and nodded toward him. A series of whispers was exchanged and in a moment, Draco was at his side.

"Good evening," Draco began. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Hello," Harry responded quietly. "My name is Thomas. How do you do?"

"New here, are you?" Harry nodded. "I can always tell a new recruit. I'm fairly new myself. Just turned seventeen. Father wouldn't let me step foot into the Dark Lord's sight until I was. How long have you been around?"

"This is my first meeting."

"Stick with me then. Father takes good care of my friends." He put out his hand and Harry remembered their first meeting on the school grounds. This time, Harry took it.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" Draco said, scrutinizing Harry's face. He shook his head quickly. "Hm, well pick that chin up. Plenty of rotten wizards around; they'll take advantage of you straight off."

"How could you say dare that again our Lord's followers?" Harry cut in, feigning shock.

"These men," he sniffed condescendingly. "They'll swear they're in it for all or nothing, but a few well placed curses and they'll be blabbing everything they know. Not like us though. No, we know who really belongs here."

"Rather talkative tonight, Draco," Lucius Malfoy's voice came from behind them. Harry spun and saw the tall blond leaning on his cane close behind them. "Who's your new friend?"

"This is Thomas, Father. He's new."

"Thomas? How...interesting." The elder Malfoy said with an arched brow. "Welcome then, Thomas. Come, meet you new family."

So Harry began to meet people. The Malfoys swept around the room and Harry kept close behind, listening to what everyone said and watching what they did. There was a feel of excitement in the air and Harry learned that this was the first meeting in over a year.

"Draco?" Harry asked when there was a pause. "Why hasn't there been a meeting in so long?"

Draco shrugged. "Don't know. I don't know if any of us do. Rumor is that the Dark Lord has been working on something big. Most of us are kept out of the loop until the last moment for the sake of security, but I'm not sure if even his inner most circle knows."

"So, what kind of a thing could he have been planning?"

Draco gave him a strange look. "I said I don't know. You're a curious one, aren't you? Don't be. Don't ask questions. Do as you're told when you're told. Don't speak unless spoken to, and I you can get away it, try to keep with head nodding. If he likes you well enough you can move up the ranks and eventually you may be able to get away with asking questions. As it is, keep your mouth shut." They heard the doors open. "Come on, it's about to begin."

They filed in in ones and pairs. Draco and Harry walked together behind Draco's father and took their places at the side of the circle to the left of the entrance. Draco nudged Harry on the way in and they pulled up their hoods and put on their masks. In the circle, the men and women stood straight and silent, heads half bowed, hands hanging at their sides. After a few minutes Harry carefully glanced around the room, waiting for something happen. It was darker than when he'd been there that afternoon. Torches on the walls cast long shadows across the floor. The dips and crevices in the Death Eaters' masks were marked heavily with shadow. An icy wind picked up and a door behind Voldemort's throne creaked open. The Dark Lord swept in.

"My friends," he began. He stepped off the platform on which his throne sat and walked around the circle. He made eye contact with everyone he passed, touched a few of their masks gently. "I has been much too long. You've all been well, I hope. I'm sure you want to know why I have waited so very long." He clapped his hands together and smiled. "I have been planning our next moves. A few key agendas have finally been set in motion, so now we may begin once more. As you know, the Minister is denying my return the best he knows how, loudly and ignorantly. The people are feeling safe. Falsely safe. We must strip that feeling from them."

"It is time to begin my favorite past time again. There's a particular mudblood family who've been getting on my nerves recently. I say they're the perfect example for the rest of the wizarding world." Voldemort's smile widened. "Kill them." He waved a hand and Wormtail, who had been off to the side rose and began to pass out portkeys. Harry stopped listening. He was sure his father would explain the plan to him later anyway. He observed the circle he was a part of. Across the way he recognized the posture of Professor Snape and watched his eyes behind the mask. Then Snape looked his way and their eyes locked. He felt Snape's mental probe as he had in their lessons and decided this would be an optimal time to test a little of the Occlumency he and his father had touched on. He brought forward the memory of James Potter turning Snape upside down and pushed it to the front of his mind. He felt Snape's recoil and watched the man's stance change. Voldemort glanced between them and approached Snape.

"Something you would like to share with the rest of us, Severus?" He forced Snape's face up with a finger under his chin.

"No, my Lord."

"Liar. You know I don't appreciate liars in my ranks."

"No, my Lord."

"And do you remember what I do to liars, Severus?" Snape stayed quiet. "Severus."

"You punish them," he said quietly, bracing himself for what he knew was to come.

"Yes. Crucio!" He held it especially short. Snape bit back a yelp and was surprised he managed to stay on his feet. Voldemort ignored them the rest of the meeting. As the Dark Lord dismissed him followers, he called out, "Severus. Stay back." Harry left with the rest of them and followed Draco and his father out to the main hall.

"What did you think, Thomas?" Lucius Malfoy asked him. "Impressed with your first meeting?"

"I guess," Harry said with a shrug.

"What, expecting something more?"

"I don't know; I guess a little more show of power or something," Harry said wistfully. He'd been watching Lucius as well after his little encounter with Snape and saw something weird about him. He tried to draw it out.

"Thomas!" Draco snapped. "Don't say that sort of thing!"

"Draco, be calm," Lucius said smiling slightly. "Let me worry about that sort of thing." He turned to Harry and slipped a piece of parchment into his hand. "If you would prefer something a little more impressive, send an owl to this address. The Dark Lord won't stand for long anyway." He winked. "Come along, Draco. We must get home. Good day, Thomas." As they turned to leave, Harry hurried back to the meeting room. He reapplied his concealing charms quickly, pushed open the door to find his father sitting on his throne with Snape kneeling before him.

"Ah come in...Thomas, now are we?" Harry smiled and sat on the step Snape knelt on.

"Sorry, the Malfoys' asked for a name and it was the first one I thought of." Harry look at Snape. "Hello, Professor."

"Potter?" Snape gaped and glanced between his master and the boy, unsure of how to act.

"Oh drop the formalities, Severus. You know Harry's here. No secrets. Speak your mind."

"Why is still Potter alive, my Lord? I thought you would have killed him by now."

"You know, Severus, for being a spy you certainly haven't gathered the most important information."

"You know I'm a spy?" Snape asked. Harry was shocked at the defeated tone in his teacher's voice.

"Of course. How could I not? You did a decent job covering your tracks but you're playing a dangerous game. I should have killed you years ago."

"Why didn't you?" Snape tried to keep his composure.

"At first I just liked you, I suppose. You were always so very loyal. You had such potential," Voldemort said, reminiscing. "I was greatly distressed when I found you had betrayed me, but I didn't want to kill you right off. I thought you might come around with time."

"But I didn't."

"Not yet you haven't, but there's still time. Hear the whole story before you make a decision. Harry, would you like to tell it this time?" So there in the meeting hall Harry uncomfortably recalled the story he'd just been told himself. He tried to hold back on some of the details, like the wandless magic, but Voldemort pushed him to tell it all.

"So that's my story," Harry said a while later. "You're the first to know. I won't be telling anyone soon, so it's pretty much up to you if Dumbledore finds out."

"Why are you telling me this?" Snape looked to the Dark Lord.

"Because you won't tell anyone," he responded with a smirk. "Go back to Dumbledore, see if I'm wrong. Wait for my summons. We have much to discuss. You're dismissed." Snape stood unsteadily and went for the door. He turned once before he left and watched Voldemort smooth Harry's hair.

Back at Headquarters, Snape walked slowly through the halls brooding over what he learned that day. He'd hoped only to see if Potter was alive and well, not learn his life story. But it was interesting. The Dark Lord was right. He had much to think about. Before he got too lost in thought, however, he went to find Dumbledore. The old man with the rest of the Order in the kitchen. As Snape approached the door, however, he saw one of the Weasley's twins Extendable Ears, and yanked it down. He heard the scuffle of guilty feet, and opened the kitchen door.

Dumbledore was at the head of the table, with the rest of the Order scattered around. He heard his name mentioned and the shuffle of many papers. Tea cups clinked on saucers and rapid speech filled the thick air.

"Headmaster, I have news. About Potter."

"Good heavens Severus, are you alright?" Minerva rushed to his side.

"Fine. Only one Cruciatus tonight. I'm surprised he didn't kill me outright," Snape grumbled as he sat down.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked, sitting beside him.

"He cornered me in a lie. I couldn't tell him the truth and I couldn't admit I was lying, of course. So he decided that embarrassing me in front of the group and a bit of pain would be enough punishment. I got off easy this time."

"What lie did he catch?" Minerva asked.

"Nothing that will hurt any of you or the Order." Snape sighed. "Potter was in the group." After the round of gasps faded he said quietly, "he isn't a death eater. I saw his arm, there was no mark."

"What was he doing there then?"

Snape paused and said, "I don't know. He looked alright, acted normal, seemed healthy. He managed to stand the whole time at least. I don't know, Albus, he seemed fine."

"What about before the meeting?" Dumbledore asked.

"He was talking to the Malfoys. They were introducing him to an assortment of people. I believe I heard the name Thomas somewhere in there. The Malfoys looked to have taken a liking to him. Draco is officially a Death Eater now."

"We'll have to keep an eye on him this year," Dumbledore said. "He and his friends.

"There was one more thing, Albus. He's planning a raid." Quickly the room was a flurry of activity. They could at least avert a raid, even if they couldn't help Harry yet. Snape left torn between his loyalty to Dumbledore, and the darkness he knew still waited inside.

"Father," Harry called to Voldemort after Snape left. "We have a bigger problem than Snape. I think Lucius Malfoy is planning a mutiny," Harry said quickly.

"I thought he might be," Voldemort muttered.

"You knew? You knew all along? How could you not tell me something like that!"

"Harry, it's alright. I can handle him. He's barely got any force behind him." Voldemort stepped forward to place a reassuring hand on his son's shoulders. "I have other sources of money. He's expendable."

"That doesn't matter!" Harry whirled away from him. "I've lost everyone who ever meant anything to me. I won't lose you too. Not to a Malfoy." He kept his back to his father to hide the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Harry? What are you saying?"

"I love you. That's what I'm saying. I. Love. you. You've done more for me than anyone else. You care about me which is more than I thought I could ever ask for. I love you. I won't lose you now to some idiot who thinks he's worth more than you are. Lucius Malfoy will be on his knees before me before I let him take you away from me." Harry turned and stared into his father's eyes. Voldemort pulled his son to him and held him against his chest.

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry. Not if you don't want me to."


	10. Talking to Snape

Harry didn't sleep the night of the meeting. He sat on his bed, reread his books on wandless magic, and practiced until dawn. By sunrise he could talk a pencil into shivering. When he finally fell asleep, curled on his bed with glasses askew, Voldemort came to look in on him.

"Harry?" Voldemort pushed open the door and smiled on his son. He took the boy's glasses off and folded them on a side table before picking him up gently and pulling back the covers. He tucked the boy in and pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. He watched his son sleep for a number of minutes before picking a book off the shelves and sitting down to read. A little while less he heard the stirring of blankets and closed his book.

"Good morning, son." Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes and rolled to face his father.

"Father?" Harry asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing after last night. I see you didn't sleep well."

"I couldn't sleep at all." Harry pushed back the covers and put on his glasses. He continued to talk as he went to the bathroom to grab some new clothes. "Why would Malfoy want to overthrow you? I thought he was one of your loyalist."

"He was, for a time. But I wasn't strict enough with him I suppose. Let him get away with too much. He became power hungry."

"You mean he wasn't like this before?" He called from the bathroom.

"Well, yes he was. But before he was content to stand behind me. He's only gotten worse. The man isn't fit to lead. He doesn't know what it takes to keep this together. I had to work for years to get anywhere."

"How can I help?" Harry asked when he came back. "Tell me whatever you need."

"That's very touching, Harry, but I don't want to put you in danger."

"Father," Harry said and sat on the bed in front of his dad. "If I'm going to stand beside you on the battlefield anyway, there's only so much more danger you can put me in. Besides, I fought you multiple times and did just fine. Malfoy's no threat."

"Someone needs a lesson in humility."

"Add it to the list. We still have a lot to cover before I go back to school."

"We should be having a lesson now, sleepy head. Get your wand; we'll have to work harder today to catch up." Harry groaned, but obeyed.

"Don't I get breakfast even?"

Soon they were in the practice room. Harry was warming up with a few basic spells when there was a knock on the door. He looked at his father in confusion. They'd had no visitors in the time he was there. Voldemort held up a reassuring hand and called for the person to enter.

Severus Snape was a man of calm logic. He worked with his mind more than his body. He was always aware of what was going on around him, which what made him such a good spy. Well, he had always considered himself a good spy. The Dark Lord had never pointed out his betrayal before. All other traitors were brutally tortured and killed and yet he lived still. He was lost on the topic of Potter too. Something was terribly wrong, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out what it was.

"My Lord," Snape said as he came forward and knelt. Harry's eyes snapped from Snape to his father.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Well, Harry, I thought it would be to everyone's benefit if Snape observed your lessons today." Voldemort gestured for Snape to stand.

"No, no, this is all happening too fast," Harry said with pleading eyes. Snape rolled his eyes. Voldemort sighed.

"We only have a month left until the school year begins. You expect to get where you need to be by then taking baby steps?" Voldemort began setting up dummies. "You need to push yourself. I have big plans for you, Harry."

"What does that have to do with Snape?" Harry said with a glare at his professor. Snape ignored him and kept his eyes on the Dark Lord.

"More than you know. Today, your job is to impressive him." Snape and Harry both looked at him incredulously.

"I've only been trying to do that for the last six years," Harry grumbled.

"My Lord," Snape interrupted quietly. "Surely you know my history with Potter-"

"Yes, and today that changes," Voldemort snapped. "Severus. I will not have you leave the ranks until you see what you'd be losing. The world is changing and you need to pick a side, but I won't have you doing it uninformed. See how far Harry has progressed and what you're future will be based in." Snape was quiet. "Harry, trust me," he said placing a hand on Harry's shoulder.

The dummies were set. Voldemort sat in one of the chairs by the table and invited Snape to sit with him. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised today, Severus. The boy is doing well.

"Alright, let's begin with a few basics. Stunners, basic defense, pain spells, glamors. Go." He sat back and shot a smirk at Snape as Harry began to go through his daily regimen. "Watch your stance," Voldemort called at intervals. "Stronger voice. Enunciate! Good."

Harry threw everything he had into this little show. His stunners knocked dummies off their feet, pain spells sent them writhing. He enjoyed the surprised expression on Snape's face when he went through a series of advanced glamors.

"Good, son. Very good. Try a little transfiguring. We don't cover that often enough." Harry transformed a chair into a broom, and a few other small things. Getting tired, he asked for a break. "Soon. You're doing very well today, but you need some more work on transfiguring. Let's keep going." Snape watched Harry take a deep breath and shift his stance, trying to ignore the fatigue. He marveled at how much harder he tried for the Dark Lord than for his usual teachers.

They continued like this the rest of the morning. They covered nearly every spell Voldemort had taught him and then some. He was quizzed on assorted magical trivia and strategies. By noon Harry was drained.

"Alright, time for lunch," Voldemort said after a time. Harry sank into another chair. "Rest here, Harry. I'll bring you both something," Voldemort said and left them alone. There was an awkward silence.

"You're doing better than I thought you would, Potter," Snape said vaguely.

"Thanks," Harry responded and layed his head on crossed arms on the squat table.

"Are you alright, Potter?" Snape asked after a few minutes.

"I'm fine. I just need to rest a little. My father always works me hard. But he's right, we don't have much time left. He could be asking more of me; this is nothing." Harry took off his glasses and closed his eyes, buried his face in his arms. He dozed off and only awoke with a hand shaking his shoulder. Through the blurriness he saw his father.

"Get up, son. You should eat something." Harry picked up his head and saw a tray on the table in front of him.

"How long was I out?" Harry asked, feeling foggy.

"Maybe an hour. Eat up, you'll need your strength this afternoon." Voldemort pushed Harry's chair in to get him to sit up straight.

"Why, what else could you want me to do?" Harry watched his father carefully, and realized something when the man didn't respond. "No, that is definitely too soon."

"You told me you'd been practicing."

"Well yeah, but I'm not very good." Harry pushed away his tray, not very hungry with the butterflies in his stomach.

"Well there is one more thing we haven't covered today that you could do first..." Voldemort let his words trail off and waited for Harry to get the message. "Would that be alright with you?" Harry frowned, but nodded. "Up with you then."

Harry stood and walked out to the dummies. He turned back once to glance at Snape who was sitting puzzled against the wall. Voldemort made a shooing gesture with his hands and said, "Go on then."

Harry took his stance before the dummies. Wand up, he tried to focus. If he was ever going to gain Snape's respect it would be now, and he would need it if he was going to lead.

"Imperio!" He shouted sharply and flicked his wand. In a moment the dummy was walking around the room, even went up to Snape and patted him on the head. Snape promptly smacked the hand away from him, and it responding by smacking him in the face. Voldemort smirked at his son's boldness as Snape rubbed his bruised cheek.

"Very good, Harry," Voldemort praised, but Snape disagreed.

"Forgive me, my Lord, but the Imperius is not a difficult curse to cast, especially on a dummy," Snape pointed out.

While Snape criticized, Harry was already preparing for the next curse. He'd found that he needed to be angry, really angry, to make this curse well effectively. He closed his eyes and brought up the faces of everyone who'd hurt him. He tried to capture the pain an anger from those times and mix it with the magic he could feel inside him from his wandless training. He took his stance and hissed the spell.

"Crucio!" Both Snape and Voldemort jumped when the dummy went flying across the room and crashed into the far wall. Harry smiled softly, proudly.

"Well done! Very well done!" Voldemort laughed and clapped while Snape repressed a shudder from too many years of being on the receiving end of that curse. "And the final curse?" Voldemort suggested. He released a rat from a small cage under the table. It scurried out into the room and reached up on it's back legs, nose twitching in the air. Harry was beginning to feel empty now. The curses had started doing that to him. He didn't feel so much when he cast them.

"Avada Kedavra," he said coldly and Snape was shocked at the callus nature of Harry's tone. The familiar green light shot from his wand and stole the rat's breath away. Harry lowered his wand again and turned to his father.

"Well done, son," he applauded softly. "Well done. How do you feel?"

"Tired," Harry said. Voldemort stood and lead him by the shoulder to the door.

"Go rest. You've done very well today." Voldemort suggested, and he sent Harry off to his rooms. The Dark Lord turned back to Snape. "What did you think?"

"He's come far, certainly. He couldn't cast much of that last year."

"He's done so well," Voldemort said pensively. "I never thought he would. Your future Lord..."

"Harry Potter leading a Dark Lord's army..." Snape mused. "There's something awful in that idea."

"There is," Voldemort agreed with a smile.

"My Lord, if I may ask, why are you treating me like this?" Snape posed the question gently.

"So well, you mean? I have something special I'd like you to do for me. But not yet. I'm afraid I have things I must take care of over the next few days that will occupy too much of my time. For now though, you will stay here until I return. I don't want Harry to know I'm going, so keep watch over him. I will return the day after tomorrow, in time for the raid."

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said The man knew he was a traitor but still treated him like the perfectly loyal servant. It confused him, even angered him. After all this time he expected the Dark Lord to at least beat him from the betrayal, but he acted like nothing had changed.

Voldemort left him alone then and Snape reviewed what he'd seen that day. Harry was obviously comfortable around the Dark Lord, even taking orders from him. The Dark Lord himself was acting nothing like he used to. Things were changing and he didn't know what to do anymore. He decided to speak to Harry later.

He found the boy the next day in the library. During his few stays there, he'd been shown the library to provide research material if he should need it and he would often find refuge there. Harry ignored him when he entered.

"Potter, as much as I would love to keep this silence between us, we have to talk."

"I have nothing to talk about," Harry mumbled from behind his book. He jumped when it was snatched from his hands and tossed on the table. "You already know more than you need to."

"Dumbledore will want to know more."

Harry stayed quiet for a minute before saying defiantly, "I don't care."

"You're a fool."

"Why? What's so foolish about this? Dumbledore has kept worse from me before. Why shouldn't I keep something from him?"

"He'll find out somehow."

"From you, you mean." Harry looked at Snape for the first time since he'd come in and crossed his legs casually. "You won't tell him."

"What's makes you think that?" Snape crossed his arms defensively.

"Because if I tell my father that you really should be punished for your treachery, he'll listen to me," Harry said with a smirk. "You don't have power over me here."

"Maybe not, but I will once you're back in Hogwarts."

"Why should I even go back to school? Father can teach me here, even more than I'll learn at school. I'm in more danger with Dumbledore than without him."

"What is all this," Snape snapped at Harry, "that you have against Albus Dumbledore? That man is the only reason you're still alive!"

"You talk like you really want to know what's going on with me, but you don't care. You never did and you don't now."

Snape sat and rubbed his at his temples. "Potter, listen to me. I remember what it like when I first met the Dark Lord. It was exciting, addicting even. He promised such great things, and upheld those terrible promises. But it isn't what you think it is. The darkness plays with you mind. It eats away at you," he said quietly, staring imploringly at Harry. "It nearly killed me. Albus couldn't handle it if it killed you."

"You're being remarkably open today, Professor. You must be desperate."

"You're infuriating."

"You've told me so often enough," Harry rolled his eyes. "I think you secretly like me."

"Where does this new confidence come from, Potter? As if you weren't cocky enough already."

"Professor," Harry said as he got up and went to put his book back, seeing that this conversation wouldn't stop anytime soon. "You need to understand one simple concept. My father loves me, and that's all that matters. Love saved my life all those years ago, and I can't simply live without it. The Dursley's never loved me, something Dumbledore doesn't seem to think matters. As long as the magic is renewed, he seems to think that I can live in a miserable, love-less household. I can't."

"I can't speak for anything Dumbledore's done, but surely your friends love you," Snape suggested, "though I can't see why."

"They like me well enough, sure. They admire me. They know that I'll step up and lead when no one else will. But love me? No, I don't think so. Not the way I need them too," He said as he walked to one of the windows and looked out pensively, dusting the sill with his fingers.

"And you think the Dark Lord will fulfill whatever it is you think you're missing?"

"He has," he said and turned to glance at Snape from the corner of his eye. "He's the Dark Lord to you, a menace to Dumbledore, a terrifying apparition to the rest of the world. But to me... he's my father. I've learned more from him than I ever did from Dumbledore."

"Like what? What thing of use could he have possibly taught that's out of Dumbledore's range?"

A little, mysterious gleam sparkled in Harry's eye as he got an idea. "Watch this." He grabbed a large book and placed it on the coffee table between them. Snape watched him closely as he began to deepen and slow his breathing. His let his vision blur and block out Snape as he searched for that place where he could feel the magic in him. He focused on the book and began to mutter encouraging words toward it. Snape gave him an incredulous look until he saw the pages begin to flutter, the cover to shiver. Harry's muttering became stronger and clearer and suddenly the cover snapped open and hit the table, pages fluttering along after it. Harry took a deep breath and sighed heavily, worn out from his hardest wandless test yet but glad he'd pulled it off.

"Very impressive, Mr. Potter," Snape asked quietly.

"Father started teaching me a while ago, but things kept coming up and I was left mainly to my own devices with it."

"So you taught yourself this?"

"Mostly. I haven't come very far yet, this is the most I can do right now. I haven't even shown father this yet."

"Do you know what that means, Potter? Only a handful of wizards besides Dumbledore can cast wandless spells. If you could master this...the opportunities are unfathomable. The magical capacity required is phenomenal. Why couldn't you handle Occlumency if you can do this?" Snape smirked.

"Well it's not like you were supportive," Harry grumbled. A moment passed in an awkward silence.

"You think you can lead his forces, Potter?" Snape asked quietly.

"In time. I have a lot to prove, a lot to live up to. Father has been teaching me this whole time so I think I have a good chance. He's taking me on the raid tomorrow to see how I like it. He says it's the main test to if this life is for me."

"And if it isn't?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'll go back to Dumbledore. Maybe I'll start up my own army. Who knows what will happen. But the raid is tomorrow, I don't need to know until after that."


	11. The First Raid, First Killing

Voldemort stood in Harry's room, arms crossed, as the boy rushed around gathering everything he needed. He had not yet removed his glamors, but Harry could already feel his presence change. He suddenly felt the pressure of pleasing his father and was nervous that he wouldn't do well. He had never been on a raid, obviously, and he didn't know how he would respond. He could feel a vague terror in the back of his mind that one of the Order would kill him, not knowing who he was. He was afraid what his father would do if he died. He didn't want to think about it.

Voldemort watched amusedly as his son rushed about, tripping over his own feet. He hoped the boy would be more graceful on the battle field. "Your sword," he reminded him when Harry thought he had everything. Harry rushed out to get it from its place by the fireplace.

"Have you kept up with your sword practice?" Voldemort asked as he took it from him to polish while Harry dressed.

"Yes, father," Harry called from the bathroom. When he emerged, he saw his father smile.

"Ah, my little boy all grown up. Here you forgot your ring." Voldemort handed him the family ring he had found on Harry's bedstand.

Harry rolled his eyes as he slipped it onto his finger. "You're really enjoying having a son to embarrass aren't you?"

"Of course," Voldemort said with a chuckle. He gave his son the cane and conjured a mirror. "Take a look at yourself, all dressed up." Harry stepped in front of the floor-length mirror and his father placed his hand on his shoulder. The resemblance was uncanny. Harry straightened his shoulders, trying to get the same self-assured posture of the man behind him and grinned.

"We make quite the impressive sight," he said.

"Yes, it will be interesting to see the response we get. Do you think Dumbledore will recognize you?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows? I bet he'll suspect, but the man is a romantic. He won't let himself believe I've turned on him."

"Very good," Voldemort said with a pensive nod. "Let us go to the meeting hall. It is nearly time to call them." He didn't specify who "they" were, but Harry nodded with understanding and swallowed heavily as they made their way across the manor.

Voldemort pushed open the heavy doors at the back of the hall and entered. He took his place in his chair atop the platform and Harry took his place beside him.

"I must remove my glamors now. Prepare yourself." He knew the sight of his reborn body was still painful for Harry, but it had to be done. As the magic slipped from his skin he rolled his head in a circle and shook the last bit of magic from his eyes.

"I will call Wormtail first. He will most likely grovel quite a bit since I haven't called him recently. Probably believes I am displeased with him in some way. Remember that you are above him and treat him as such. He will be bringing Nagini with him. It is time you two met, and speaking to her will encourage his fear of you." Harry nodded and braced himself for Wormtail's appearance. Voldemort rolled back his sleeve and touched the end of his wand to the tattoo on his forearm. He felt the pain accompanied with the spell and held his breath until he pulled the wand away and it dimmed. He didn't enjoy calling his followers and was glad when Wormtail appeared kneeling before him, Nagini around his neck.

"Master," he whimpered and shuddered as the snake slid from his shoulders and went to her master, nudging her head against his leg lovingly.

"_Nagini_," he hissed affectionately. "_Did you enjoy your little vacation, my dearest_?"

"_Yes_" she answered, and nodded her head toward Harry. "_Is this the one you told me about_?"

"_He is, my dear. This is my son_." Nagini slid over to him and inspected him carefully.

"_Hello, Nagini," _Harry hissed and held out a hand. He heard Wormtail's breath catch in his throat and he spoke to the snake.

"_Hello, young Master." _She rested her head in his palm, and slithered up his arm, coiling around his shoulders. "_I like him, Master. He smells like you."_ While Harry and Nagini became acquainted with each other, Voldemort turned to Wormtail and let his voice drop into the raspy hiss his followers knew so well.

"Wormtail," he said, calling the man forward.

"Master," He whimpered. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No, Wormtail, you not in trouble. Fear not." He gave him a look to judge his strength and health, making sure he was up to the call. His followers did not know, but he did care about them on some level. "Give me your arm. I must call the rest." Wormtail pulled up his sleeve and came forward, trembling. Voldemort took his wrist and pulled him up on the platform, touching his wand to his tattooed arm. He felt Wormtail shudder and the magic went through him.

Around the country and farther, his followers felt the burn in their arm they knew so well. Snape was once again in the kitchen with the Order, as they discussed what would happen that night. He gasped and let out a hissing sigh as he pressed his arm to his chest. All conversation ended as they watched him take a deep breath and try to ease his pained expressing

"It is worse than usual," he told Dumbledore. "He must want to be sure everyone is there. No one will deny the call if they will hurt like this. I must go; I'll be no help to you if the pain increases and if I'm not there he won't stop calling." Dumbledore nodded, understanding.

"Go then, but be careful."

Snape staggered out of the room, disapperating soon after. The other left at the table felt a vague embarrassment at seeing Snape so out of order.

"Albus?" McGonagall asked. He held up a tired hand.

"He'll be fine. I can't stop him without risking everything he's worked for. He can take care of himself. Now we must wait for the first report."

In the entrance hall of Voldemort's manor, his followers were gathering. They all filed into the meeting hall as the doors opened They took their places in the circle and watched their master sitting in his throne, petting Nagini as she coiled up his arm. They saw Wormtail kneeling, curled over next to the throne, and that the Dark Lord was dressed in his fighting robes and they knew what was to come. Harry kept to the shadows behind his father so he would only been seen when his father deemed it appropriate. From his hidden place he admired the control his father had over them all, without even speaking.

"My friends," he greeted them. "Welcome once again to my home. The more perceptive of you will have noticed why I have called you. It is time to attack again." He stood, left the platform, and let Nagini slide to the floor. He began to walk among them as he spoke.

"Tonight is a big night. A great blow will be dealt to those who dare oppose us." He gestured to Harry to come forward and he stepped into the light. "My son will be joining us tonight. Once a powerful follower of Dumbledore, he has returned to me and will fight at my side." He stepped back onto the platform and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, surveying the group. It was smaller than it once had been, but he hoped to fix that soon.

"I sense negative feelings," he said as he gazed at them. "If you have something to say, speak now."

One man stepped forward, cautiously. "My Lord, how can you expect us to follow someone we've never seen? How can we know he is worthy of standing beside you?"

"You do not trust my judgment, Lucius?" The man tensed at the use of his name. Harry tried to smother a smirk at Malfoy's discomfort.

"It is not that, my Lord. He is just a child. He barely looks older than many of our own children," Malfoy said, gesturing to rest of the circle. "How do we know we can trust his judgment?"

Voldemort nodded slowly. "A legitimate concern. I assure you, however, that he has been under my training for quite a while now, and I have faith that he will prove himself tonight. If you feel he does not, we will address that at a later time. Any other questions?"

There were none. He began to say something else, but a bell chimed somewhere in the manor. "Ah, it is time."

"Everyone, be alert. I have reason to suspect that information on tonight's attack has been leaked out. We may have quite the battle on our hands."

He turned to his son. "Ready?" Harry nodded. "Off we go then," he said and grasped Harry's arm tightly.

The next thing Harry knew, he was standing in the middle of a street, lined with houses with neat little shrubs. Harry saw a few owls flying through windows and knew it was a wizarding town. He drew his wand and grasped the top of his cane. He felt silly with a cane on what would soon be a battlefield. Even Malfoy held only his wand. But he knew it would be important.

He looked around and saw the rest of the followers fanned out behind them, forming a triangle with himself and his father at the front. Voldemort raised his wand and sent a spell at one house, which ignited, sending the occupants running into the street. He lit two other houses and soon people were pouring out. They soon froze as they saw who had caused the fire, and a woman's high scream pierced the air. Soon the men of the houses began to come forth, cautiously with wands raised. Harry watched them all carefully. He saw his father raise his wand, and stun one of the men. Quickly the rest of the group spread out and curses flew. Harry dodged several but stayed close to his father, watching what he did.

"You won't impress anyone if you stay with me, son," his father told him, and pushed Harry gently in a different direction. They were separated quickly and Harry became disoriented. He heard a series of pops, and Order members began to arrive. He saw Dumbledore down the road and went he other way. He felt a spell narrowly miss him and whirled to face Tonks coming toward him. He set his feet and held his wand tightly. As she sent another curse at him, he began to fire back carefully at first, but then as he felt his adrenaline rise he became more daring. He caught her off-guard with a few more powerful spells and eventually hit her with a powerful stunner, taking only a moment to look at her before he turned to face another opponent. A man was trying to stun him, and Harry shot a strong pain curse at him, he let out a strangled yelp and fell to his knees. The next person to attack him felt the same curse, and fell to the ground, spasming. He looked at them, fascinated by how a "light" curse could still cause so much pain.

Soon a women ran at him. She sent a flurry of curses, all of which he dodged. He fought back, but she kept coming at him. He saw a few of the Death Eaters watching him expectantly in the crowd and he began firing more and more powerful spells. Still she pressed on, shrugging off pain curses and dodging stunners. He became somewhat nervous and upped his spells again. When she was only a few strides from him and he remembered his sword and whipped it from his cane, lifting it above his head and when she was only arms length away, slashed a long cut across her face. She fell to her knees and stared in horror at the weapon he held. She begged him to spare her as he pressed the point against her throat, but he just looked at her. He felt no sympathy, and instead pushed the blade through her chest. She gasped and choked, and he felt blood on his face. He pulled the blade from her body, and watched as she collapsed in a puddle of blood. Only then did he notice that she looked vaguely familiar. Shrugging off the feeling and turned as he heard a scream and saw a man racing at him. Again, his blade whirled but this time he went for the neck, and his head went rolling.

Snape was nearby and saw the killing, shocked at Potter's brutality. But when he caught Harry's eye, there was something else there. There a savage look and a glimmer he had never before seen in the boy. He watched as Harry, hearing someone coming up behind him, turned the sword around and stabbed under his arm, impaling the man in the stomach. He held Snape's eye the whole time, but as the man slid from his blade he turned back to the battle.

It was over quickly. After most had been killed and or beaten down, the houses burned and ransacked, and the dust began to clear, the Order began to fall back. Voldemort called to his men, gripped Harry's shoulder tightly, and, with a smile at Dumbledore, disappeared with a crack. The rest of his men followed soon after.

Dumbledore and his group were left to pick up the pieces and nurse the hurt or dying. There were few deaths, and for that they were thankful. But when they realized what had caused most of them, they were shocked.

"A blade?" Alastor Moody observed. "Unusual. Did anyone see these killings?"

Snape stepped forward. "I did."

A newly revived Tonks called from her bench across the road, "I did as well. It was terrible." She kept her eyes downcast. Dumbledore sat beside her and motioned for Snape to come over. The free Order members came forward to listen.

"Tell me what you saw, my dear," He suggested. She took a shuddering breath and began to recount what she saw.

"There was a man...very young. He hadn't been fighting much, mainly watching. I'd been keeping track of him for a while when I had an opening. I moved forward to attack, and he fought back. I continued to advance, and eventually he stunned me. When I fell, I was still able to see him, and then his first victim came at him..." she shook her head. "He was merciless. First he tried to keep her back with curses, but she continued to advance as I had. I expected him to stun her and be on his way...but he pulled a sword from his cane, and the next thing I know she's on the ground with a gaping hole in her chest..." she tried to hold back a sob. Dumbledore looked to Snape.

"That is what I saw as well. But after, I saw another killing by his hand. I believe he was her husband, coming to avenge he death. And the man took off his head." Snape told his story quietly, and saw several heads bow.

"We have more to worry about now," Dumbledore said with a hardened look. He looked around and commanded the rest, "Well what are you waiting for? Go tend the living. Many were wounded and they need to be healed." They scattered.

Back at the manor, Harry stood with his father again on the platform, still stained with the blood of his victims. As the rest of the Death Eaters began to arrive, he sat on the step and began cleaning his sword. His father watched him amusedly until all had arrived.

"Does anyone have anything to say against my son now?" They had all seen what he had done and how he had fought and none raised a concern. "Very good." He looked at his son. "I believe that he has proved himself beyond anyone's expectations. A new fear has been planted in the minds of our enemies. You all did well," he said as he looked across the group. "Go now, rest, I will call you together again soon. We have been very successful tonight." The large doors opened, and the group slowly filed out. Conversation rang in the entrance hall, but Harry paid no notice as the doors closed again. His father sat beside him and wiped the blood from his face.

"I am proud of you, Harry," he told him. "You did very well. I don't think anyone will be contesting you place by my side again. How do you feel?"

"Numb," Harry replied.

He father chuckled. "What did you expect to feel? This is your first time taking a life. It will take some time to process."

"She begged," he told his father. "She begged me to spare her life...and I killed her." Voldemort took his son in his arms and held him close. Smoothing his hair, he reassured him.

"Harry," he said, "don't think about that. Don't think about her as a person. She lost her life for a bigger purpose-"

"That's not the problem!" He wrenched himself from his father's grasp. "I didn't care that she begged! I didn't care about her family...if she had children....I didn't think about why I was killing her. I watched the blood run down her face, and suddenly I felt nothing. No doubt, no uncertainty. Her life meant nothing to me, and taking it meant less. I should have felt something. I had always felt like my very heart was bleeding whenever I heard of a death in this war. I don't understand..."

"Harry," his father began again. "Clam yourself. Don't think about it. It will only cause you pain. I felt the same way when I killed for the first time. Look at me, Harry." The boy turned to his father. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are no less human for what you've done."

"I guess," Harry said. He pet Nagini as she slithered by. "I think I need to go to bed, sleep awhile on it."

"Of course. Come, let me walk you." Together they left the meeting hall and made their way back to Harry's rooms.


	12. Nightmare and Wandless Magic

Note: So I'm surprised at you all; you're really slacking off. Usually I get attacked about the tiniest plot holes and spelling mistakes, but I just went back to reread what I've written, and there are such glaring mistakes I'm amazed no one brought it up. Biddy's name keeps changing, Snape never made the pain potion, Harry's scar hasn't hurt him once...I have a lot to fix. I'm putting this chapter up before i go back and make some corrections, so it may be a little weird to live. Pretend for me that Harry's scar had been hurting anytime Voldemort was around and the Dark Lord had Snape create a pain illing potion for the boy. That will come into play at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 12

The wind howled against Harry's window the next morning. He groaned as it woke him, but got up knowing he wouldn't sleep with the storm. He sighed heavily has that chime he detested so much rang midnight and shrugged into his robe. He regretted not owning slippers as the floor was freezing this late at night. He tried to read, tried to practice his wandless magic, but nothing held his interest. Eventually he took to staring out into the storm. Thunder rolled across the sky, and lightning pierced the darkness. Then there was one strangely bright flash of lightning, and there was a face in the window, bloodied with mouth open in a permanent scream.

Harry yelped and through himself away from the window. He shook his head and told himself he was just tired being up in the middle of the night. Heart pounding, he went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face and chase away what he know believed was surely just a nightmare. But as he stood at the sink, he looked into the mirror and behind him appeared the man he'd beheaded the day before, cradling his head and reaching out at Harry. Harry screamed and ran from the bathroom, but in his bedroom stood his other victim, clutching at her bleeding stomach. He choked back a sob as he stumbled away from the apparition and fled his bedroom, but they were in his living room too. He ran from his chambers completely and fled down the hall, but the beheaded man stood in his way, he turned and ran the other way, tripping over his feet and sprawling on the carpet. He looked back, saw the man coming closer, and dragged himself to his feet. In his way now was the woman he'd stabbed through the chest, screaming and gurgling on blood.

He saw a door next to him and threw it open, slamming it shut behind him and leaning against it with a sigh of relief. He stepped forward to examine what room he was in, but heard a sound behind him and turned. There stood the three he had killed so heartlessly, and in front of them...James and Lily Potter, bloodied and beaten. Lily held a knife. Harry found he couldn't move as she approached him, knife glittering in the darkness. He tried to cry out, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Harry was sitting in bed, screaming. He felt arms around him and he clung to the body next to his until his screams dimmed to strangled sobs. A hand smoothed his hair and held him tightly, murmuring gentle sounds and rocking him slowly.

"You're safe, Harry," a soft voice whispered and he knew his father was there. "There is only you and me here; no one will hurt you." Harry didn't move until his sobs eased to hiccups. "There now, that's right. Deep slow breaths. Would you like to tell me what happened?" Harry shook his head frantically, holding tight to the only thing he was sure was solid. "That's alright, you don't have to anything you don't to right now." Voldemort tried to detach himself from his son, but the boy clung regardless. "I promise I won't leave you, don't worry. You need to lay down now, Harry; the sun's barely risen. Daylight will chase away your fears, and I'll be hear to help. Lay down now; close your eyes." Weariness began to overcome Harry as he calmed down. Slowly he let himself be moved and his father layed him back down onto the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. "There. Don't be afraid; I'll stay right here with you," he continued to speak in a low soothing voice until Harry's breathing slowed into an even rhythmic pattern and he knew the boy slept. He stayed sitting on the bed with him until he was sure Harry wouldn't wake again, then he went to the bookshelf and selected a book for himself. He came back and sat by Harry's bed, settling in to read until his son woke up. He sighed heavily as he watched his son's troubled expression. He hadn't anticipated this being so hard for him, but if that nightmare was any indication he would have to put any more of Harry's training on hold for a little while.

After a little while, he smiled ruefully. Funny, he thought, how all his years plagued by nightmares would come in handy. He had never had anyone to come to him in the middle of the night and put his fears to rest, but he was happy to be able to help his son. Poor Biddy had come running for him when she heard Harry screaming in his sleep, terrified of punishment for waking her master but more afraid for Harry. He would have to find some way to reward her for her good care of the boy.

Harry slept well into the morning. He woke quietly this time, though haunted by the memory of his nightmare. He breathed deeply and opened his eyes to the bright morning light.

"Ah, you're awake," Voldemort said from across the room where he was replacing his book. He returned to the bed and sat beside his son. "How do you feel? You gave me quite the scare last night."

"I'm sorry," Harry apologized. "I have a lot of nightmares. It's no big deal. You shouldn't have bothered getting up last night."

"That's my job," Voldemort said with a little smile. "You have a father now and you're going to have to get used to the special treatment." He ruffled Harry's hair, only to have his hand slapped away. "Come, let's get something to eat."

Harry felt his stomach rumbled at that thought of food and nodded. He didn't bother changing into robes as they padded out and away to the dining hall, where Voldemort called to the house elves to make them breakfast and joined his son at the table where he watched Harry sipping at a cup of tea that had been brought to him, and began to stir his own.

"If you don't mind me asking, what are these nightmares of yours about?"

Harry snickered into his tea. "Before tonight? You." Harry laughed as Voldemort choked on his drink. "What did you expect? You've only been trying to kill me my entire life. You know how terrified I was the year you shared a body with Quirrell and he crumbled at my touch? I couldn't sleep for months. I dreamed of basilisks and Ginny dying for weeks in my Second Year. And don't even start me on the terrors that haunted me after your rebirth. Oh and the whole thing with horrible veil of death. Still have nightmares about that. As much as I hated you for it, sending me fake visions was a brilliant idea."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at the boy. Only Harry would be able to compartmentalize so well as to be so aloof on these topics. "I had no idea about any of that." Harry looked at him in surprise.

"Really? I always knew when you were upset...or particularly happy, which of course made everyone else upset. Or angry, or mischievous, and especially if you were killing something. I was amazed it took you so long to figure out our link when I had splitting headaches anytime you were feeling moody. I'm really very thankful for Snape's potions. I don't think I could handle living with you if I couldn't think through the pain."

"That's very strange. I only had pain if I touched you, up until the ceremony anyway. I ought to look into this link of ours more thoroughly. Maybe we can use it to our advantage. But if it's not too painful for you now, I'd be interested to know what you dreampt of last night."

Harry stared into his tea, suddenly quiet. "I don't really want to talk about it. I have to think more about it. But I will tell you that it was a result of the raid yesterday."

"I was afraid you had pushed yourself too hard."

"I guess so. But at the time, it seemed ok. Natural, even. Now...." Harry shook his head as he let his words trail off.

"Harry," Voldemort said, slowly. "You know I'm not forcing you to stay here. I won't force you to take this life if it will cause you this much pain. If you want to return to your old life, you still can."

Harry looked at him absurdly. "And leave you? I can't do that. I can't believe I'm saying that, but it's true."

"Yes, you can," Voldemort told him. "It's not too late. I can go back to being the evil Dark Lord, and you can return to your life as the Boy-Who-Lived. You can tell Dumbledore that I held you captive here, tell Severus you were under the Imperius."

"You know that isn't true," Harry told him "Nothing will ever be the same."

"It can be, if you want it so. I won't take that comfort from you. I know you were happy. I will claim the blood on your hands if you'll let me."

Harry stared at his food and pushed his breakfast around the plate while he thought. After a few minutes, unaware of the anguish his father felt just a few feet from him, he said, "No, I will stay here. Don't even suggest we return to our old lives. I don't know what I'll do in the long run, but right now I'm happy. Happier than I ever have been with the Dursley's, or even at Hogwarts. The closest I've ever been to feeling like this was at the Weasley's, but even then...they weren't really my family. You are, and I don't want to lose that."

"Well I won't make you leave as much as I won't make you stay." He reached across the table and squeezed Harry's hand. Harry shook him off.

"Alright alright enough of this mushy lovey dovey stuff. I'm missing my lessons. I'm surprised you haven't dragged me off to the practice room yet."

"You know, I was thinking about skipping lessons for a little while. I think a little free study is in order. You haven't been working on your wandless magic recently, have you?"

"No," Harry said guiltily. "I should get on that."

"Well then why don't you work on that today? I have some things to take care of myself. Why don't you take Nagini with you? You two need some time to get to know each other, and you may be surprised to find how helpful she can be."

Harry shrugged. "Alright, that's fine with me. Where is she anyway?"

"How should I know? She's a very independent snake. Call her, see if she's around to hear." Harry kept his eyes down, embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"I, um, never really figured out how to just speak in parseltongue without a snake to speak at."

"Well we'll just have to fix that then," Voldemort said, relieved. He mentally hit himself for always overreacting to every little worry. "Get an imagine of a snake in your mind, and try to speak to it mentally. You'll find that practicing that will enable you to think in parseltongue. A useful skill if you have people intent on getting in your head. Also useful against truth potions. They can force you to answer questions, but they can't decide what language you answer in. Once you have a decent grasp on thinking it, say it out loud."

"_Um, Nagini?" _Harry hissed, and jumped at his success.

"I told you it was easy. Just takes a minute to get the hang of. Call again, louder."

"_Nagini!"_ he hissed loudly. Voldemort held up a hand to indicate to waiting, and after a few minutes she slithered through the door.

"_You rang?" _She hissed, annoyed.

"_Don't fuss, Nagini. I'm just teaching Harry a little about speaking to you. Would you stay with him today? I'm leaving him to independent study for the day and I'd like you to keep an eye on him."_

"_Hey!" _Harry interrupted. _"I can hear you, you know."_

Despite his irritation, Harry led Nagini out of the dining room and into the library, leaving Voldemort to chuckle after him. Left alone, Voldemort began to reconsider his plans as he finished his breakfast. He hadn't intended to seriously encourage Harry's wandless magic, thinking it would just be a nice little hobby to take his mind of other things, but the boy seemed genuinely interested in pursuing it. Perhaps he could help him. This would be an incredible advantage if Harry could master it.

Meanwhile, Nagini had slithered up Harry's leg and settled around his shoulders. He was sitting in the library behind a low table. He had placed three books of varying sizes on the table along with a few quills.

"_What do you think, Nagini? A good set up?"_ He hissed at the snake who rested on him. She raised her head lazily to see what he had done.

"_I suppose. What do you expect to accomplish through it?" _

"_I just want to practice a little. Open the books, levitate the quills, little things like that." _

Nagini snorted, a peculiar sound coming from a snake._ "You'll never get anywhere if you stick to levitating quills."_

"_Well then, all-knowing-snake, what do you suggest I do?" _

Harry soon discovered that when given free rein, Nagini could be very bossy. Maybe being the companion of a man with a very strong need to control had suppressed this part of her, but Harry was a little overwhelmed when it came out. His father had been very gentle with their lessons, but as Nagini quickly took over his "independent" study, he began to liken her more to a female Snape: demanding, unsympathetic, and holding incredibly high expectations. However, Harry also found that he wasn't the wimp from years past and he didn't give in to many of her demands. Eventually she slithered, fed up with him, from the library, leaving him on his own.

He used his time more wisely than he usually did. With the afternoon to himself he felt more adventurous and enjoyed experimenting with what little he could do. He realized that he was using too much energy in random bursts, and began to figure out how to direct the magic more efficiently. The more little tricks he figured out, the easier wandless magic became. He was amazed at his progress.

Lord Voldemort decided to drop in on Harry a little while before dinner. His son had been working for nearly five hours straight, and he was interested to see what had been accomplished, or whether the boy had simply exhausted himself. He leaned against the door frame looking in, arms crossed and a faint smile playing on his lips. Harry was sitting with his back to the door and Voldemort enjoyed a moment to what his child unseen. He felt his heart swell as he saw the quill in front of him float up, a little shaky, but slowly becoming still. He nearly revealed himself there, but stopped when he saw the quill turn point down and dip into a bottle of ink off to the side. He watched Harry place a parchment out on the table, and as the quill began to scrawl slowly across the page. It started with scribbles, lines, and loops, but slowly it began to form words. It was a child's messy scratching, but they were certainly words.

He did step forward then and came to kneel beside the chair Harry sat in. Harry shot a grin at his father and the quill faltered but a stern glare brought it back into place. Staring intently, he also levitated a small square of cloth and wiped the ink of the nib of the quill. He set them both down on the table and let out a heavy breath. He looked to his father with eager eyes.

"What do you think?"

Voldemort picked up the parchment and examined the writing. "I think I need to give you a few lessons on penmanship," he said.

"Dad!" Harry rolled his eyes. Voldemort chuckled.

"I think you're doing very well, child. You have continued well behind my expectations." Harry beamed. Seeing his son's pride, he added, "But don't get too cocky, Harry. You have a long way to go if you expect any practical use from this. Have you tried to cast any spells, or are you just directing spare magic?"

Harry frowned. "I haven't tried casting any spells yet. I thought wandless magic was the ability to make magic do whatever you wanted to do, not limited to spells. That's what your books say."

"Well yes," Voldemort said and pulled up a chair of his own. "But you must understand how magic works, how it moves, how it responds. You'll be able to do incredible things if you master wandless magic, but need to be careful. What if you tried to stun someone, but didn't know how stunning magic really functions? Our wands direct magic and control it in a safe manner. If you try going wandless, what's to stop you from stopping their heart instead of just their limbs?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Harry said soberly. "But how can I learn to be safe with it?"

"I don't know, Harry. I am able to do some basic wandless magic, but I never bothered to develop the skill. There was never a need and I was never particularly interested in trying. You'll have to work that out for yourself. I'll help if I can, but there's only so much I can do."

They continued to discuss the ups and downs of wandless magic the rest of the evening through. They spent the next several days this way, putting off lessons and working instead on wandless magic. They experimented together and began to work out more and more things Harry could do. Every day Harry improved, and they were both astounded at his progress. Voldemort had begun to worry about Harry's studies, as with their standard lessons in the basic subjects he wasn't particularly gifted. He could pass his classes decently enough, but he was in no way excelling. He was happy to see that the individual attention was helping him significantly; however he worried that his son would never find something he was truly good at. Besides getting into trouble, that is, and defense magic. Defense was important, and he knew in the past the boy had considered being an Auror, but it was obvious that he wasn't very passionate about that future. Harry's future with him was still uncertain. Here, however, Harry was always focused, always excited to learn something new. He was his own teacher and he was doing well.

Voldemort was still in a good mood a few days later when he sat behind his desk, looking at Severus Snape, seated opposite him. Snape looked tired, but otherwise in good health. Voldemort liked to be sure his followers didn't suffer unnecessarily, especially valuable ones.

"Well Severus, what did you think of Harry's little show last week?" Voldemort watched Snape's face carefully. He was amused to see it was smooth as glass. Snape always had been good with his expressions.

"It was a little showy," Snape replied after a moment.

"Yes," Voldemort said with a chuckle. "He's quite the showman. A little over the top, but he had to make a good impression. How is our dear Headmaster taking it?"

Snape weighed his words carefully. "He is suspicious, of course. This progeny of yours came about rather suddenly, and only after Harry disappeared."

Voldemort frowned. This was unavoidable, but he would have to be careful. "How suspicious is he?"

"I do not believe there is anything to worry about, my Lord. Albus knows that his fear for Potter's safety is skewing his perception. I have reassured him as best I can that Potter is in no immediate danger, but there's only so much I can do without raising more suspicions."

Voldemort only stared at him for a moment then sighed. "I know this is difficult for you, Severus. You can't be truthful with me and now you can't be truthful with Dumbledore either. I know that even your original acceptance was only a half-truth, designed to take advantage of my trust and keep all options open as long as possible. However, you have been doing well for me and I am well pleased. Have you even told Dumbledore about my offer?"

"I have not," Snape responded.

"You will be rewarded for your loyalty," Voldemort decided.

"There is no need for that, my Lord. You have rewarded me greatly already. You have allowed me to see and spend time with Potter. You have not ousted me to the rest of your followers. And not once have you taken away my ability to choose for myself what to do. I am grateful for the privileges you have already bestowed on me," he said and bowed his head slightly. Voldemort smiled lightly at him.

"And it is moments like these that renew my trust in you. There is a tone in your voice that doesn't lie. But we have other things to discuss. I would like you to work on another batch of potion for Harry. He finished the test supply and I wanted too see whether the effects would last, but he has begun to complain about twinges and I worry how much it will increase."

"That should not take long. I can recreate the original potion with little trouble," said Snape as he began to go over ingredient lists in his head. Snape had a mind that worked well for potion making. He was able to make connections that others overlooked and understood well how many different variables could eventually come together, making for an efficient and quite possibly brilliant potions master. "I was thinking, if I may have your permission to use your lab, that I may be able to improve the potion. Make it last longer, taste better, simplify the process. I imagine Potter will be taking this potion for an extended period of time, and he ought to be able to make himself eventually."

Voldemort nodded approvingly. "Good ideas, Severus. I'm allowing you access to anything you need for whatever length of time you need for this project of yours. I appreciate the initiative you're taking."

"Thank you, my Lord. I will begin immediately if that would please you."

Voldemort chuckled and said, "Severus there's no need to brown nose a man who knows you're a spy."

Snape smirked in response. "It's automatic, my Lord."

Harry, meanwhile, was laying on his bed in his darkened bedroom with a wet cloth on his forehead. His head ached acutely and he was getting flashes of emotions and images from his father. He sighed heavily and groaned, trying to ignore it. He knew Snape was in the building and would be starting on his potion soon, and he hoped it would be done tonight. He was glad that his father was happy, but he didn't need to know with such certainty.

His father found him a few hours later still laying there, sleeping this time. He sat on the bed beside him, but saw how restless his sleep was, and that it got worse if he came near and worse yet if he touched him. He backed off, afraid of waking him, and left him alone. He would tell Snape to get the potion done as quickly as possible.


End file.
